The blazing sun in the sky was like fire, scorching the living beings on the dry land.
Huseny got up from the old mud brick bed and looked at the sky outside through the window that had a few pieces of broken glass hanging on it.
It had not rained for a long time, and the ground was extremely dry. The well nearby was already dry. Even if one grabbed the soil at the bottom of the well, one could not feel the existence of a trace of water.
If this continued, he was afraid that someone would really die!
From a young age, huseny had become used to death. From as long as he could remember, he and the people around him had always been struggling to survive. Many of his acquaintances and childhood playmates had died one after another in the process of growing up.
In a place like this, death might have already become a form of release.