“On your left, way you’ll find the original monastery built during the life of Saint Francis…”
The heat absorbed her words. The nearest tree was out of range of the guide’s voice, so the tourists politely sweltered, letting their minds wander to anything that wasn’t the Italian summer sun on white stone cobblestones.
The locals smirked from the darkened windows.
Wiping her brow, she looked longingly towards the forbidden patch of earth, and she realized how ridiculous they all were. Even the pigeons, who normally seemed oblivious to anything besides breadcrumbs, all cowered from the sun in the shade.