sickly sweet. swelters and scorches, almost cruel. melted popsicles and lopsided ice cream cones. sun-baked stories. some of them you repeat for years to come, some of them you never speak of again. feet in the sand, anchored in coarse grains of rock and sediment. caught in the tide as it recedes from shore; if you’re not careful, it will carry you out to sea. drifting endlessly in the interminable days after the solstice.