Cuban Heat by Lesley Whyte

The air was thick and muggy. The sky was red streaked with orange. We sat on his balcony, looking out over the ocean. Watching the figures walking along the shore, silhouetted against the bright sky. 

He smoked a cigar. I tried not to choke on cigar smoke.

The sweat crept along my collarbone. A gunshot rang out in the distance. The wind rustled through the trees. Our skin stuck to the warm, metal chairs. 

He smoked a cigar. I tried not to choke on the smoke.