"Nice," said the young doctor, standing naked on the bed and looking out of the closed window, with the airconditioner humming almost inaudibly.
In spite of the early hour, the street outside already gave the impression of molten lead, with the air over it shimmering with the heat. The cloudless sky was bleached almost white.
"Big deal if you keep running all the time. In the desert, under the awning and with a wind blowing, it's not too bad, and there's almost nothing to do; a broken leg and two sprained ankles on landing, and afterwards one snake and three scorpion bites, plus the usual athlete's feet and prickly heat; a paid vacation. Would have been even lazier if the one who got bitten by the snake looked under the stone before sitting down on it, and the ones with the scorpions shook out their boots and socks before putting them on in the morning like they were taught to do."
"No, don't bother. I'll make it myself. Stay where you are as long as you can. God, it's going to be one of those days. I wonder whether there are any jobs going in Alaska."
"There must be somebody out there enjoying this weather."
"Yes, the scorpions."
©1997 Zygmunt Frankel - All Rights Reserved.
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