Four points

Water points, North Vancouver, Canada 2018

Water points, North Vancouver, Canada 2018


The sole of his shoe sank into the soft tarmac leaving an imprint of a familiar sporting tick.

The temperature was rising by one degree each day. When he was a boy, the summers were never so hot. Warm but not so hot the roads began to melt.

John took off his hat and wiped away the sweat from his forehead. He wiped his hand with a handkerchief and replaced his hat.

The road was softest around the water points. He wasn’t certain how much of a problem this would be. The back of his neck tingled with the heat. Small blisters were beginning to form just where the shadow of his hat fell short. He lifted his head, craning his neck, looking far into the sky. With the sun behind him, it was easier to see the hole. A dark shade of blue where the world’s poisons were burning through the atmosphere.

He stepped sideways onto the dry grass verge away from the soft, melting road. He dropped his bag to the ground and rummaged around for his binoculars. He slung the strap over his neck and began to turn the dial, focusing as he pointed them high above his head. The dark shadow filled his vision. He drew his lips tight. Fuck. The word left his mouth in a murmur of frustration. He dropped the binoculars and they swung against his chest hitting his ribs hard.

Up and down the road, house after house, family after family were waiting. They were waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

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