@mc5punk 19 April 2025 more from that month

Short story: Under the Relentless Sun

In the center of a city that seemed to be melting under a scorching sun, stood an old building of reddish bricks and windows with worn wooden frames. Its walls, covered with dried ivy and moisture stains, kept stories of past generations. Don Ernesto lived there, an older man with gray hair, his face furrowed with wrinkles that told of a life of work and loneliness. His apartment, small but cozy, was full of books, framed photographs and some plants that he carefully cared for, despite the dry weather that threatened them. The beginning of rationing One morning, while the sun was already mercilessly warming up, Don Ernesto got up and went straight to the kitchen. When I turned on the tap, only a weak thread of water came out. The news of the rationing had reached the building: the water supply would be limited to two hours a day. Don Ernesto, meticulous and cautious, began to store water in bottles, carafes and buckets that he placed neatly in the kitchen and on the balcony. Each container was a small treasure. As he was filling a carafe, he heard a soft knock on the door. When he opened the door, he found Marta, his neighbor on the third floor, a middle-aged woman with a face marked by fatigue and worry. Next to her was Tomás, her grandson, an eight-year-old boy, with large and curious eyes, who looked at everything with a mixture of uncertainty and amazement. - Don Ernesto, would you have some water you could lend me? - Marta asked, her voice trembling-. The tap hasn't given a drop since this morning. Don Ernesto invited her in and offered them a glass of fresh water. Then he filled a bottle for Marta. - Of course, Marta. But we must be very careful—" he warned with a firm tone. Every drop counts, and we don't know when the supply will return. Thomas, with the innocence proper to his age, was looking at the rows of bottles and asked: - Why is there no water, Don Ernesto? Ernesto sat down next to them on the small sofa in the living room and calmly explained: - It's a drought, Tomás. It hasn't rained in a long time and the rivers that supply the city are almost dry. That is why the water that reaches our homes is very little and they are rationing it so that it reaches everyone. The crisis is getting worse As the days passed, the heat intensified. The temperatures reached unbearable levels, and the air seemed to burn the skin. Don Ernesto's plants, despite his care, began to wilt. Rationing became stricter, and eventually the water stopped coming in completely. In the lobby of the building, the neighbors began to meet every afternoon to share information and look for solutions. Marta, Luis — the sturdy and always friendly doorman-, Clara, a young medical student, and other residents were discussing worriedly. - Do you know if they will bring tankers? - Marta asked, her voice heavy with anxiety. "The town hall is overcrowded," Luis replied, shrugging his shoulders. They say the drought could last for weeks. Don Ernesto, who had kept some distance until then, decided to act. He organized small meetings in his apartment, where he taught the neighbors techniques for reusing water: how to filter the water used for cleaning, how to clean with wet cloths instead of buckets, and how to water plants with recycled water. "Use only what is necessary—" he repeated insistently. If we help each other, we will be able to resist until the water returns. Solidarity as a refuge The nights were the most difficult. The heat wouldn't let up, and without water for the cooling systems, air conditioning was an impossible luxury. Tomás, restless and sweaty, often came down to visit Don Ernesto. - Aren't you afraid, Don Ernesto? - he asked her one evening, while they were both looking at the starry sky from the balcony, where the air was just a little cooler. Don Ernesto smiled, with the serenity of one who has faced many storms. - Of course I'm afraid, Tomás. But I also have hope. The city has overcome other crises. The important thing is that we take care of each other. Solidarity became the true refuge of the neighbors. They shared what little they had, supported each other and, despite adversity, kept hope alive. One afternoon, Tomás arrived at Don Ernesto's door with a small withered flower that he had found in the park. - When the water comes back, I'll bring you a pretty flower, I promise. Thank you for taking care of us, Don Ernesto. The older man, touched, stroked the boy's head and smiled. In the midst of the relentless heat and the seemingly endless drought, Don Ernesto understood that the real strength to resist was not only in the water he kept, but in the company, solidarity and hope shared under that inclement sun. Source of the images. Image created with Starryai.