Marge couldn’t believe he’d written a prescription for walking. A hundred degrees outside and walking was his answer. She stared as the offending script hit the trash can. God, she hated exercise. But, she’d try anything at least once.
When she stepped outside, the unbearable air slipped around her head like a plastic bag. However, she doggedly placed one foot in front of the other, determined to finish a mile. Her only company the damn buzzing, blood sucking mosquitoes.
Marge cursed Doc Ralston as the parched ground crumbled beneath her feet and her ankle snapped. God, she hated exercise.
This was my contribution to the:
…the parched ground crumbled beneath…