Tropicalia

“I’m not going to sleep on this flight,” is the last thing I say before I fall asleep. We land in Cancun five hours later; I wake dry-mouthed with my hair knotted around my necklace. I am not at all refreshed. Reed and I disembark the airplane into a swaddle of hot, humid early evening air, and my skin becomes slick with light sweat, down to my iridescent yellow pedicure.

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