Hot Meat

It was just after four in the morning. The full-on humidity had melted from drizzle into rain in the last couple minutes and, despite the fact that it wasn’t particularly hot, I was sweating like a pig. The rain tap-danced tic-tic-tac on the skin of my leather jacket.

I saw a man laying nude on his balcony, sunbathing. He had one of those mirrors propped up under his chin so his tan would be even. The sun was well on the other side of the planet, but this space cadet was none the wiser.

Probably smacked out to his eyeballs, I remember thinking.

It wasn’t until later, when I got home, that I considered the fact he might have been dead.

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