Afternoon Runs on a Summer Day

A Creative Writing Flash Fiction by Ariel Rojas

 

If I were to picture what it would be like to be inside an oven,

I’d say it has to be like today.

Trucha’s pants cut through the thick, humid air, slicing right through the hum of the busted fan.

Even though she’s been alive for the past decade, it seemed as though this heat might be challenging her senior experience. With her tongue flat out of her mouth, she lay as if she were a fresh toast soaked in water for too long, sloppy against the wooden floor panels. Droopy creases formed around her round eyes, disguising a look that could only say that she was ready to pack her half-eaten bone and run off to a household that had an actual AC unit.

“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur to her, dragging my arm across the floor until I can reach her furry face, my finger squishing her cheeks around, pulling them into funny expressions. 

It wasn’t like she was the only one boiling here. More so, every inch of my limbs felt sticky to the point it looked like I rolled around in syrup for fun. I lifted the collar of my shirt to wipe my face, but it only made things worse. The fabric was already super soaked through.

“Look at us,” I mumble, scratching the soft patch of fur on Trucha’s stomach. Her leg kicked weakly against the floor. “We’re literally becoming soup.”

I stared at the ceiling for a second, feeling another bead of sweat crawl from my forehead down into my ear.

No, no way.

There was no way I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon getting cooked into the floor beside my dog like two crispy chickens.

Pushing myself off the floor, I gave Trucha’s side a couple pats.

“C’mon,” I said, pointing at her. “I'm going to save both our lives.”

Trucha pushed herself off the floor with a tired groan, stretching her legs before following after me. The second I swung the front door open, the heat wasted no time on hitting me right in the face, making me start to second-guess if becoming a meal is better than this.

>>>

“10 soles?”

“You're selling a popsicle for 10 soles?”

Behind the counter, the cooler let out a loud rattle that sounded as if it was close to its final breath, little puddles of water forming underneath.

The old man wiped sweat off his bald spot with a dish rag hanging over his shoulder. “The cooler is about to give out, and there’s too much demand.” 

“C’mon, I’m like the most loyal customer this store ever had; you can’t be robbing me like that!”

“Kid, I have never seen you before.”

I narrowed my eyes at him while Trucha threw herself across the tile floor behind me, choosing to rest in front of the cooler, as if that junk was going to send cooling waves towards her telepathically.

I looked back at my hand, one mere coin resting against my palm. That clearly wasn’t going to cut it.

“So?” The guy asked.

“Never mind…”

“Just know that the moment this ends, I’m going to become this store’s most loyal hater!” I spit out, giving him a final look before I turned around.

I let out a sigh, pushing my hands into the pockets of my shorts. Trucha slowly pulled herself from her side. Letting out soft grunts as her thick body swayed around in the same frustration.

“So much for saving our lives,” I mutter, looking out into the street.   

I barely made it three steps down the sidewalk before I stopped hearing Trucha’s whines, turning around just in time to see her shoot off to the other side of the street.

“HEY!”

I shouted almost instantly, my feet already running right after her. My flip-flops slapped against the pavement while sweat dripped straight into my eyes. Even after my desperate shouts, she kept going.

My steps took me past a colorful alleyway, where an array of fruits lay on carts, vendors rushing people to buy from their stalls. I pushed past the crowds, almost tumbling myself over against a loose floor tile but managing to keep pace with my dog.

Old folks watched me run past, gathered around the sun-roofs. They sat in white plastic chairs as the loud radio boomed out the newest hit of  Luismi.

“Don’t worry, I got it under control!” I shouted at their confused looks, as if I wasn’t one weeze away from collapsing and hoping that damn dog found the way home by herself. 

I practically had enough when I saw her swerve one more time. Without thinking, I threw myself forward, my fingers barely managing to grab onto the loose fur by her stomach before losing my balance, my shoe snagging the curb.

Suddenly, I was out in the air, holding onto Trucha’s belly like a lifeline. After some time, the warm concrete pressed harshly against my back, and not a second later, we were rolling down the sidewalk.

I held my breath, my arms scraping against the rough concrete, my legs failing in an attempt to stop our speed. Trucha was flapping her arms around, and her sharp paws were digging right into my face.

That’s it. There goes my ice cream. At this point, I'm just tumbling toward my early grav-

CRASH

First, I hear the surprised shout of someone, head slamming right onto a cold metal. I let out a whine, fingers pressing against the smooth metal as I pushed my head from it. My vision had stopped whirling, fixating on the bright yellow color in front of me, tracing out the blue letters that were spread across it.

Donofrio

The guy behind the cart peeked over the side, a form of confusion and shock forming on his face. I couldn't really blame him. The sweat against my clothes was covered in dust, and my hair perked from all directions. Trucha was panting next to me, her once prim brown-colored fur now a muddy black color that made her look more like an ugly rug.

Before I could answer, the guy took no time to pull out two fresh popsicles from his cart. 

"For free?" I asked.

She looked at me for a moment before glancing down at Trucha.

"Just take it, kid."