by T.L. Tomljanovic

Clothes Saran-wrap our skin and ceiling fans only rotate convection oven air so three dozen limbs pile into the car and we head to the mall. 

Icy air blasts away sweat, and our lungs breathe a collective sigh of relief.

The food court is packed with frenetic families and teenagers escaping the media-dubbed Heat Apocalypse. My hot pink gel nails scroll through TikTok posts of forest fires. My kids, oblivious, munch on French fries and pizza. I buy them hemp character t-shirts packed in reusable cloth bags to alleviate my guilt and buy us more air-conditioned time.