He stumbled into the fluorescent sanctuary of a corner bodega, the bell above the door chiming like a victory trumpet. The air conditioning hit him in a frigid wave, pulling the salt from his skin.
The afternoon sun was a physical weight on Leo’s shoulders, turning the suburban asphalt into a shimmering, heat-baked haze. His tongue felt like a piece of dry felt, and his water bottle had been an empty plastic shell since the fourth mile of his run. buy gatorade
Leo stepped back out into the heat, the bottle sweating in his hand, feeling like he could run another ten miles—or at least walk the rest of the way home. He stumbled into the fluorescent sanctuary of a