- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing The thing about this heat, this fucking heat, was when you sat down and the back of your legs burned. It happened on the bus, in the park, on some random wall that you just wanted to rest on because you'd been up for 36 hours at the store and with the kids, and you just wanted to collapse but you couldn't because your ass was on fire. You couldn't send the kids out to play with the heat the way it was lately, so working nights was becoming a living hell. What's the point of the night differential, measly fifteen percent that it is, if you can't sleep. I remember my dad coming downstairs to yell at us for waking him up. His hair was what I remembered, that and the belt. That's one thing I'll never do, the belt. Sure, I might raise my voice every now and then, but I'll never lay my hand on a kid or woman, or a man. So why am I working security at a corner store on the night shift? I'm putting my shirt behind my legs on the seat, the sweat acting as a coolant to insulate the worst of the heat from my skin. Maybe this will dry my shirt a little so when I'm home, I won't be so sweaty. I just need some sleep. The first day of sleep, when my wife takes the kids to her parent's place for a few days, the first day is just collapse. It's the second day that does the refreshing. The second day is like a slushy for my brain. All of a sudden, I'm cleared up, I'm straight, I'm back. Then, my soul is chipped away, hammered away, blasted away, until I'm nothing but a ... I cry, I yell, I walk out. During the school year, after September comes around, and it's cooler, below 100 anyways, I can sleep during the day. But these summers. I spend my differential on cold. I buy ice, pops, fans, water, drinks, slushies, ice creams on sticks we call handles. I have an old insulated wrap I put around them in my bag to get them home still not fully melted. They are runny and sweet, and the kids have them for breakfast as a treat on their birthdays. I buy passes for the kids to cooling stations, with misting fog blown by fans. I stand outside and down wind, where the cool is contagious like a virus invisible through the air. The kids can stay for 20 minutes for a dollar. Then we linger outside until we are pushed away. That's what I'll dream of today while I fall asleep. I'll dream of the laughter of kids playing in the cool mist. My fan grinding as it turns it's head back and forth and blows air over a tray of ice cubes. Like a rich guy at a tennis match.