CoffeeShop Blues
SEEING RED
By:
Apple Gidley
Peering out into the shadowy promise of day Gemma shuddered as
the wind snapped the tent flap from her grasp, the canvas flapping
wildly.
Shrugging a khaki shirt over the cami she’d slept in, she knew it
wouldn’t take long for the sweat to start its inexorable slide down
between her breasts to pool in a soggy mess at the waistband of her
shorts. It still surprised her that the thick socks she tugged on each
day actually lived up to their promise of keeping her feet cool and
dry. Tipping her ankle boots upside down, she shook them hard
listening for the slither of scorpion hitting the sandy groundsheet. It
was difficult to see in the dim glow of the hurricane lamp but feeling
confident she wriggled her toes into the boots and tied them tightly.
Gemma ripped the duct tape off the zipper track of her holdall. The
zip had been no match for the heat and humidity and had jammed
within days of her arrival. Her fingers probed for the disc shaped tin
of Tiger Balm; bug prevention she was convinced worked. Refilling
her backpack with the day’s essentials she remembered to toss in
another tub of talc: the gloves provided stuck to her fingers making
them itchy and sore.
Ready, she said to the photo jammed under the rim of the 6x4 inch
mirror she’d tossed into her luggage at the last moment, the thought
of raggedy eyebrows too much even for her rare vanity. The photo
booth shot was tattered and she smiled as she smoothed the exposed
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