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The summer sun baked the ground causing the heat to visibly rise off the city streets. Waves and ripples of heat danced in the distance as he walked through alley in the blinding midday light. The air was stagnant and thick, there was no wind, he could feel it hanging heavily around him, clinging to his arms and legs and he made his way through it. It’s the humidity, he remembered someone telling him, that makes these days so unbearable. Sweat dripped down his forehead faster than he could wipe it away. His whole body felt wet and uncomfortable. Thoughts ran through his head of childhood and the summer days he’d spend hours running and biking and never being indoors unless he had to be. He never remembered the days being this hot or sticky. How had he survived those days so easily? What was about age that made weather extremes feel so much more extreme? He tried to think of his childhood during winter, tried conjuring images of blizzards and snowmen, but the blazing sun melted them before they could fully form. He had passed some others braving this heat, but not many. There were the older men sitting in their garages shirtless, drinking beer and listening to the radio. Older women sat in patio furniture protected by the shade of an umbrella. Even a few groups of kids could be heard running around backyards. Not many were walking the streets trying to get somewhere. Even fewer were walking through neighborhoods that, on a normal day, would invoke caution and possibly avoidance. On a normal day he would’ve avoided this neighborhood and gone the long way around, but today, with the sun beating down and the humidity high, he risked it to save time. The alleys were the fastest way though the neighborhood, but also the most dangerous, and the least shaded. Already he had passed a couple groups of people that made his heart race and his nerves rise. Heat of this magnitude made people desperate. He just wanted to get home so he could shower and relax before she came to spend time with him.

The biggest mistake you can make while walking through unsavory neighborhoods is being distracted. You need to be completely aware of your surroundings, of all the people and cars and houses that pass you or that you pass. You need to be mindful of what’s behind you while keeping an eye on what’s ahead. The heat was making him feel lazy. It made his mind slow and unfocused. His thoughts were anywhere but in the present. His mind was replaying the events of the previous night over and over. She had invited him over and instead of staying inside they sat in the park staring at the stars while the humidity weighed them down. They held hands while walking along darkened paths, the glow of their cigarettes and the ever present moon offering the only light. Back at her house, in the dark hours of morning, they whispered secrets while lying in bed. Their flesh fused together as they made love in the stagnant heat, their chests sticking together as they held each other in the dark. In the midmorning sun they smoked cigarettes on her front steps, talking and laughing. Before he left she told him that she loved him. It was the first time he hadn’t said it first to someone, and the first time he’d ever believed it from another person. Girls had said it to him before, but not with this level of seriousness, and never while looking him in the eyes. It caused something to happen inside of him, a feeling of closeness, of acceptance, something he couldn’t put his finger on, but it was good, and it made him truly happy. He said he loved her too, and he meant it, for the first time he realized, he truly meant it.

It was this feeling of happiness, this sense of warmth and protection, which distracted him on his walk home. He didn’t hear the group of kids calling to him as he walked past. He didn’t see them get up and start following him. He didn’t even feel the knife the first few times. What he did feel was the burning pavement against his skin. Hands that were hurried and violent ripped the backpack off his body and rummaged through his pockets. Feet that he couldn’t see kicked at his torso and face. Voices spoke in words he knew he should recognize, but couldn’t understand. As he watched them run away the pain began to set in. Suddenly he was extremely aware of everything that was happening. He could feel the bruises forming on his face and ribs. He could also feel the blood leaking out of the knife wounds that decorated his back, chest, and sides. A deep red river formed, originating at his body and headed for the sewer grate in the middle of the alley. He watched as it gained strength and flowed smoothly over the rough concrete. Despite the heat he began feeling cold and tired, his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Tears formed unconsciously as his mind processed what was happening. Everything in his brain was a blur of pain and panic as the reality of the situation settled upon him. There was nothing he could do that would change the outcome. There were no magic words that would save him and let him see tomorrow. He was defeated and alone. Just as the red river reached the sewer grate, moments before the blood would disappear into the darkness below the city, all he could think was how he just wanted to get home.

2012