Morning

The early morning light baked his face as his tongue searched each tooth for any moisture. He heaved his arm off the ground until it flopped over his face, giving his aching eyes a little shady relief. As he lay in the sharp, prickly sand, he reached with his other hand to get his car keys. A white-hot thought burnt its way through his brain’s neurons: WHERE ARE MY PANTS? Which was followed by: WHERE IS MY UNDERWEAR? Grudgingly, he stood up, naked from the waist down and looked at the morning suns. Suns, he thought, isn’t that just perfect.