Baking in a Heat Wave

124 DEGREES -

With two hours before sunrise

The last baker enters the break room

Joining a crew, soaked and faded

Their shift hasn’t started

Condensation on windows

And Gatorade puddles

Serve as warnings

That this won’t be a day for talking

In silence they wait

Listening to the compressors

Wheezing for air, on the other side

Of the Oven Rooms door

Each considers leaving

But fears being the first

To turn tail

While their brothers face the dragon

Only years later will they realize

Why they had to carry on

It wasn’t for themselves

But each other