~25 degrees~

Children simmering in the street like so many bubbles in a pot, wave garish ice poles like swords. They hit and tweak each other in red-cheeked irritation, one clammy hand grabs another, forgets it instantly, bored. It lets a wrapper fly groundwards, a kite dying on the still air, a giant confetti celebrating their heated fiesta, a bright sticky mess on the dull dirty ground. Tropical parrots escaped from the zoo they squawk and scratch along the pavement, immitating giggles and pouts.