I watched from afar as he clamoured toward the illusion of an oasis I conjured before his eyes. He was getting desperate. Soon, he would die. He couldn't last much longer. The desert heat was even starting to get to me. And my witch's blood could usually withstand such abuses.
Finally, the tragic figure fell to the ground. When I closed my eyes I could feel his tears caress my cheek. When I tilted my head I could hear his hoarse whisperings float on the heat waves. When I opened my eyes I could watch him die.
Inspired by Three Word Wednesday.