Heat Lazily Drifting

The heat was drifting under his chin. Making his freshly shaved face itchy. The jeans were too tight, he had to keep pulling them down so that he could breathe down there. His shirt was drenched with sweat. The heat was humid, and it’s thirst never ended. It kept on drawing more and more sweat out of him. He used his forearm to wipe the sweat away, and it helped. But briefly. He hoped that they’d be done with this soon. He couldn’t wait to get into air conditioning. This was his first time. He stood by his motorcycle, trying not to look out of place. But even if he hadn’t pretended to work on a bike that was actually broken, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one paid him any heed. Like the millions of people in this country who were born and who died in the trash, he was invisible. His life didn’t matter. He noticed that his fists had clenched and he relaxed them. He looked over at the two who were leaning against the truck. Calm. Taking it all in. They had done this a few times. One of them was his cousin. After his father died, and after he’d lost his job, his cousin took pity on him, and involved him in the plan. He had the easiest job. His involved the motorcycle. The man next to his cousin gave the signal, he looked in the distance and saw the target. He stood up, his back telling him all those moments of bending over and waiting in this harsh heat had made it sore. He moved the motorcycle. A rickshaw honked at him as it careened around the motorcycle in the center of the road. The land cruiser cane to a shrieking halt. He looked directly through the tinted windows, could make out sunglasses, and a frown of confusion. Then anger. The car honked. He wiped some sweat off his brow and shrugged as he looked straight through the dashboard glass. By that time, the other two were at the door. Traffic rushed around the car. No one stopped. He heaved a sigh of relief, they hadn’t known if it would be, but it was, as the door opened, it was unlocked. His cousin rushed around the other side. The other man punched the owner, who was not going to give up without a fight. As he screamed in rage, and made to leap at his assailant, the latter drew a gun that made the victim stop short. His cousin had reached the other side, had opened the door, and stopped to gesture frantically at him to come in. He hurried to the back seats and got in. His cousin was holding the man, there was a cut above his right eyebrow and off they went. After a few minutes of struggling, he fell silent.  The air conditioning was cool and calming. He could feel it tickle and relax the freshly shaved skin. Dice dangled in the car.