“Hot as Hell,” I mentioned as we trudged up the hill.  The flinty rocks ground beneath our feet.

“That’s a redundancy, given where the sorcerer said he was sending us,” Chrys replied.

“All this sweating isn’t going to help us, with no water to be had.”

“A good thing I don’t sweat.  I glow.”

“Sort of like that pool of brimstone.”

“I read an article about it in one Mrs. Schwarzkopf’s magazines. Classy ladies glow.”

“Then I won’t worry if the fire in the sky ever goes out, because then we’d still have plenty of light.”

She stopped, as did I.  “You say the nicest things, sometimes.” Her smile, at least, was a thousand watt arc-light.

“Well you’re a class act, angel.  Classiest act in Hell.”

“I beg to differ,” came a voice from all around us.  I should have known better than to say something like that here.

This is something new I’m trying: daily flash fiction, 150 words, based on Dictionary.com’s word of the day.  Thus, “Word Flash Fiction,” WFF.  No contest here, just a writing exercise.

Dictionary.com word of the day: sudorific