Hot Rain

"That night, as the sky turns a gauzy red and the first rain of the summer begins, steaming on contact with the sun-soaked asphalt, she finds herself in the brittle haven of a dead tree.

She lets her sensorium expand to encompass the lifeless suburbs:

Derelict stripmalls . . . Streets arranged in inadvertent mazes merge with vistas of smoke and cauterized weeds . . . The tombs of houses, roofless, now filling with water . . . The distant city like some monstrous glass whimsy.

Her jaw opens slightly; she licks hot rain with a metal tongue."

When I first read Mac's story, I immediately saw this image in my mind and set to work. Mac thought the finished graphic was pretty right-on and posted it on his blog. Both the image and the full text to the story can be found here.