Story Stream: July 14th Pt. 1

Going outside is unbearable. Even though my house only has one small window unit, It can create a comfortable climate when I stay a few feet from it. But outside, outside is a whole different beast. The weatherman said that we would be experiencing the hottest July 14th in recorded history. Why do they even track things like that, for us to feel better when it is hot outside? "At least it's only the second hottest day in recorded history." Well, newsflash channel 5, your little mental game of "it could be worse" isn't helping today. Even with your cheery little bronzed meteorologist telling me "It may be the hottest 14th yet, but all the more reason to hit the beach on this perfectly clear Saturday afternoon!" 

I can do it, all I have to do is walk down to my mailbox, come back, and then I can plop right back down in that folding chair next to my A/C. Why does the mail have to be so far away? It's like the designers of this apartment complex were trying to torture us. There must be fifty units in this place, spread out across 6 buildings, and they put all of the mailboxes in the same place. I am paying through the nose for this condo, the least they can do is spread out where we get the mail. 

I have been walking for maybe a minute or two and I think I am starting to see things. Is that Mrs. Johnson over there, or a dog? Admittedly, I don't know if I could tell the difference even with the right frame of mind. She is about 4'11", when she stands up straight, and only wears old wool sweaters. She walks with a permanent slouch, brining her head nearly down to her chest, and when she decides to wear her long hair down, looks like a big ball of fluff shuffling down the sidewalk. 

My feet are burning. With every step I can feel dead skin cells falling off my sole as they are burned off. I'm sure my left shoe was somewhere, but after 15 minutes of looking, my determination to find it had dwindled. I had gone for hours at waterparks barefoot and seemed to be ok, so a 5 minute walk to the mailbox and back couldn't be that bad? It is incredible how soon we can forget pain, because as soon as I hit the sunny part of the concrete, I was immediately reminded of why that "No Running" rule seemed like a sadistic game waterparks played on their guests. 

I am almost there, I can see the mailbox in the distance. I have to shield my eyes from the glare coming off its metal exterior. I look up to the sky to avoid making direct contact with it and see there are no clouds. Just a blue void, mocking me. The sun is shining so brightly that even though I am walking away from it, I can still see its rays poking up from behind my head. As I approach my mailbox I am drenched in sweat. I've only been out for a few minutes, but the heat, combined with the humidity, has my body working overtime to cool itself. I wipe my forehead and rest my hand on the metal casing surrounding the post boxes, as if I forgot how hot it was. Almost immediately the heat begins to hit my hand. I pull it back in a matter of seconds, but it has already left a blister on my palm. If I wasn't already on the verge of a heatstroke I might go back and grab an egg, to see if the metal is hot enough to fry it. But I don't want to spend more time out here than I have too.

Ignoring the blister pain, I reach into me pocket for the mail key. I fumble around for a minute and realize, it's in the other pocket. So I put my hand into my right pocket and...oh no. My body slouches in despair as my left shoulder hits the hot metal casing of my mailbox. I can feel the heat through my t-shirt, but I am too distraught to care. After a hot and uncomfortable journey I take a moment to process the sad truth. I forgot my mail key back at the apartment.