...and, finally, Santarém reaches 42ºC.
The radio announcer ended the dawn broadcast, with the prospect of another scorching day.
The Alentejo's pasture was beginning to make itself noticed as both men drove off for another day's work.
For him, another day under the sun, sweating, lifting barrels. But at home bigger worries had remained. His sick wife needed what little he earned to survive these difficult times.
In the driver's seat, his colleague was “ate” packets of SG Ventil, while singing, in a very local accent, “Living on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi, that followed the weather.
He threw his feet up on the dashboard, opened the window, and smelled St. John's-wort's scent that the breeze carried in.
Life was easy at that moment.
Light.
Free.
Outside the window he felt a sign catch the wind.
His eyes opened instantly
- Go back! -he shouted to his companion - You shouldn't have come this way! This is Water-All-Year-Long...
- Yes it is. But what did you want me to do...? Go around Ponte de Sôr?
- Clearly! - He replied, looking around - Any beer driver knows that this is a death sentence. We can not break the borders like this... - He continued putting a hand to his forehead - Give me one of those...
With a trembling hand, he lit the small cigarette and took a deep breath.
As he raised his head, a rocket exploded the wheel beneath him...
Written 02/08/2021
Based on real events
