The colors of the flag snapped against the sky with a whirl and wave of stars and stripes.

She sat on the ground filling her mouth with rocks. Swallowing them, one by one, and laughing as they hit the bottom. Strangely, it was not the rocks gathering in the back of her throat, but the long hot day that would not subside or fade away, that kept her from breathing. The sun was a machine gun. It’s yellow fire heat was an endless clip of ammunition. Her skin turned purple-red and blistered until she could peel it off in layers, and roll it between her fingers into shapes of elephants of varied size and stature.

The flag fell silent. The elephants melted onto the silvery cement of summer. And she walked away. Skinless.