The heat that Tuesday felt cruel, the kind that sticks to your skin and slows your breath. I was on the porch with sweet tea while Eli filled the driveway with chalk dinosaurs, his curls damp and cheeks bright pink. “Mom,” he asked, eyes narrowing down the block, “why’s that man walking funny?” A mailman I didn’t recognize was inching our way. His uniform clung to him, his bag dragged at his shoulder, and every few houses he paused, bracing a hand against his lower back. “He’s just tired, honey,” I said. “It’s really hot out here.” But Eli kept watching, serious in that way that makes a five-year-old seem older…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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