The nights still burned after the sun went down. Asphalt was hardly cool when Alphard stepped out at 10, his cloak glittering behind him. He liked summer, but even he was getting sick of the ever-pressing heat that coated the city and made it unbearably humid. True, he had AC but god help him, patrolling in clothes with layers was a nightmare.
Still, chaos did not rest, it did not sleep, and as he rounded the corner, he snorted as the sight of a sad art installation downtown. A melted popsicle made from Plexiglas and far too colorfully reminding him that even at night the town was too warm.
“People in this city make terrible life choices.”
