I. / by Doctor Awkward

Steeped in sweat, we balanced ourselves on the thick, winding steel of the train tracks. The heat was sweltering, and it felt as if the very marrow of our bones was melting. Missteps were met with the dull crunch of gravel against rubber, and we could barely hear our own voices over the summer symphony of cicadas and mosquitos.

Words By Natasha Sligh