I moved down the stairs and through the kitchen where I saw my mother slicing potatoes into a pan of hot grease. I passed my brother, setting on the front step, gently strumming his guitar. My sister pranced about the yard in make believe games. I reached out to touch her shoulder. She shivered and quickly turned toward me.

“Can I play too”, I asked. But as she opened her mouth to speak, the only sound that came out was of a man I did not recognize.

“107 degrees,” it said. “I have no idea how he is still alive.