It baked the cracked asphalt of the driveway, shimmered off the chrome of a neighbor's car, and turned the front yard's patchy grass a brittle shade of gold. The air smelled of dry earth, sunscreen, and the distant, greasy promise of someone's barbecue.

Inside the cool, dim living room of the small stucco house, the hum of the window-unit air conditioner fought a losing battle against the heat. Y/n was sprawled on the worn, beige sectional, one arm dangling off the side, her phone a bright rectangle in her hand.

From the kitchen came the sound of the fridge opening, the clink of a glass, and the cheerful, off-key humming of her little sister.