WJ Entry #004

December 27, 2018

The warm, humid air permeates her surroundings, causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stick together uncomfortably. She sits at a quaint Mexican restaurant with her equally overheated partner and his welcoming family. The temperature is devastating, it beats down on them like the pressure of an invisible, steaming waterfall. She swears that even the hand-drawn illustration of the restaurant mascot ( a pink lizard) sticks out his tongue for a drop of cool, fresh air.

Despite the heat, the atmosphere of the quaint outdoor restaurant is relaxed. There are deep blue sofas and small wooden, homely tables scattered around with antique vases and ornamentation. The rust-toned sand swirls gently in the breeze and the overhead trees are large and all-encompassing, hugging the restaurant in a beautiful net of cool shade. A lone guitarist strings together a sweet melody a few tables away and her partner's mother laughs at something he says. She turns her head to focus on the conversation but as she does, something seems to shift in the air. It's almost like the heat waves have gained form, they distort and warp her vision until suddenly, she's not sure where they are anymore. The short, plump waiter brings colourful, frozen margaritas with equally colourful mini umbrellas and sliced fruit. A multitude of hands grab at each glass and the feeling of frost on her tongue is enough to make her sigh in relief. The waiter gives them all a little tug of the lips as he asks for more orders. Everyone lists off their desires and as he leaves, they watch him go.

The trees seemed to have shortened in length and the sandy area of the restaurant has almost expanded a couple of feet. She squints her eyes into the distance but the further she looks, the further the sand grows. Prickly plants sprout up near their table and the guitarist starts to play his Mexican themed melody a little louder. She glances to her partner and his family and notices that beyond the drunken smiles and laughs, they're each sporting matching sombreros. She snorts and covers her mouth quickly as she notices the appearance of a little curled moustache on his brother's face. The guitarist is joined by fellow musicians and the melody becomes a full-blown soundtrack. She laughs with the happy company around the table and relishes in the feeling of this foreign place. It feels just like Mexico.