Not sure if I'm allowed to double-post here, if not, then please merge my posts, but this is a seperate piece.

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The light reflects off each surrounding car, each surrounding hood, and when I stare at one hood for too long my eyes hurt just as if I were looking into the sun itself. That can't be right, though, I can't be staring at the sun if I'm sitting on top of it, inside of it.

My soda bottle isn't full anymore, isn't even half full. Taking a drink of it leaves behind a sticky aftertaste; my throat feels momentarily cooled but my mouth feels even hotter, and the last time I took a drink of it, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth for an entire second.

Where is she? My mind whimpers before my sore throat has a chance, and with a sense of urgency, I scan the parking lot. Twice. Three times . . . no sign of her. An old man wearing a magical top hat passes the sun in which I sit, but he doesn't notice a thing. I think his top hat is covering his eyes.

He presses a button in his hand and the trunk of the car in the opposite space pops open as if by magic. I try to focus on what he's throwing into the trunk, but by the time he slams it shut the only thing I can remember of his purchases is that they were all in stuffed, see-through plastic baggies.

Where is she?

Too hot . . . it’s too hot in the sun. It’d be too hot even if I was outside, even if she came and turned on the air conditioner, even if I threw myself into a public pool with all my clothes on.

She said she’d hurry. She said she just needed a new hair dryer before we left. How long has it been? Seems like days, but nighttime hasn’t graced me with its moon yet and I know it’s not been more than an hour. I want to be on the moon, in the moon, I’d rather be in the moon than in the sun.

The window needs to be rolled down, but then someone might steal me. More importantly, someone might steal the car. She said so, she told me so. People steal far too often, she said, and people can’t be trusted these days. Why, just a few months ago a girl was robbed while walking down the street, the innocent, sunny street, she told me.

The street was probably too sunny.

Maybe if I just crack the window, just a little, just so I can breathe, just so the air can cool the sun a bit, then I’ll be okay.

I scan the parking lot again, this time to make sure she isn’t coming, before my hands inch little by little toward the button. Why didn’t I think of this before? The little button will automatically crack my window, roll it down a bit, give me air. With a guilty glance toward the shop door through which she disappeared, I smash my finger onto the button.

Nothing happens.

Again I try, and again the window remains up.

This time my whole fist smashes onto the button, and with a crackling noise it pops out of its hole and lands somewhere on the floor. I don’t pause to look for the broken thing, opting instead to beat the empty space where the button once was until I see splotches of red all over the side of the door. Breathing hard now, my energy long gone, I lower my hands and slouch into the burning seat.

Where is she?

The doors to the store slam open suddenly, and my head just barely manages to turn in that direction before I see two streaks of color dash into the street, one dash of bright green and another dash of black and red. Neither of those dashes is the one I want to see, however, so I let my head fall.

I don’t know if I can feel my limbs anymore. My hand looks mangled and bloody, but I can’t feel any pain.

Where is she?

Maybe going to sleep for a little while will make the time go by faster. Maybe when I open my eyes again she’ll be here to open the door, a hair dryer in each hand (she better have gotten at least two, with the amount of time she’s taking). Maybe I’ll dream of water.

“Mm,� I murmur, an unintelligible, scratchy sigh escaping as my eyelids slide shut. I already feel cooler . . . I can’t see the sun anymore. What’s that she always told me? Out of sight, out of mind? Her saying seems to work on everything except for herself, since I can’t stop thinking about her even when she’s not around.

It’s funny how that works.