Here's a short-short story

The sun was scorching. There I was, still and lying on the floor. It was as if someone had found a switch in order to disconnect me. I coudn't do anything. The sweat went down my forehead, very slowly, to my eyes. I was neither able to listen, nor to smell. I was not even able to look.
I simply felt heat, a heat that was more and more blistering and lethal. Perhaps all that was my own hell? Had I done anything in order to face that situation? I didn't even know how the hell I arrived to that remote desert.
Luckily, now I am quietly typing this sudden idea that has crossed my mind as a furtive arrow shot.

J. I. Xarmed