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Staring into the light was the
onset of despair. Rolling dunes as far as could be seen robbed
her of balance and Sheila
fell, tumbling and rolling hard. Get up, I must keep moving, she muttered
as she stumbled to an outcropping of rounded stones and palm trees.
Sunstroke was a
distinct possibility in this heat, driving her to find rest in the shade.
She grasped the nearest beverage and swigged
back the green slime,
thinking of it as a tropical treat. Sheila choked and spit it out.
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Mojito? Are you kidding
me? Bring me
a Margarita!
Sheila looked around
the luxury resort and its exotic décor, with its handsome waiters. That’s
it—I’m catching the next flight
outta Yuma!
She did not know but there were no flights that day or any other.
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No disrespect is meant to Yuma, AZ. Yuma is set among beautiful scenery. When we drove through Yuma recently, it was 112 degrees F.
