How severely could the sun's heat burn her skin?

Sunblock. Oz discovered, a bit too late, that when one moves to the East Coast of America, sunblock is as necessary as chai in Turkey. She noted that it was essential for negating the burning sensation in the near future, and as she rode down Wisconsin Avenue, almost every person was applying it on his or her sweaty skin that humid afternoon.

Oz wished Kaya had cared to inform her that D.C. was a boiling pot of water in early October. She cruised down the busy pavement on her bamboo longboard. Her freckled arms were growing a scorched tan under the blazing sun. Oz had half a mind to roll down the sleeves of her shirt if not for the swift breeze that pacified the mild burn. It was one of the few relieving aspects of the country's capitol that Oz wholeheartedly embraced.

It was rather pleasant to blast music through her headphones as she balanced fluidly over her board. The wheels swayed in any which direction she leaned. Locals in sunglasses and shorts naturally strayed from her path of choice, but dancing over the longboard was enough to catch lingering stares. Oz applauded herself for remembering to grab her retro shades that afternoon before she left for the metro. No one could detect her curious gaze from underneath, nor the nerves that were beginning to surface as she struggled to spot her destination.

She crisscrossed over the length of the bamboo deck as the smooth pavement trailed behind her. There was nothing complicated about the motion once her music blasted away her negative thoughts. There was nothing to think about other than the breeze weaving through her short sandy hair and how it cooled the skin on her bare forearms and legs.

There was a sense of calmness in the air as No Vacation began to consume the rest of her thoughts. It was a delightful feeling, one that was quite fleeting. Nevertheless, Oz shook away her nerves and refused to pay head to any onlookers or worry about her own insecurities of moving back to her childhood city. It was time she got her sense of direction back.

D.C. wasn't all too different from Turkey.

Oz often frequented near the ethereal Hagia Sophia and delicate stone mosques that stood tall and proud looking out to the violent waves of the Bosphorus. Here in D.C. the only body of water Oz could bear to admire was the calm currents of the Potomac River that grazed under the sophisticated stone-arched Arlington Memorial Bridge. It was a grand sight, very clean and orderly, but the lack of dust, color, and noise near the bridge left Oz rather homesick.

Without a doubt, Oz was . . . adaptive. She was quickly growing accustomed to serene waters and the classical architecture locked around scattered green parks. Deep in the city, there was culture, without a doubt. There was no shortage of live music, busy cafes, oblivious tourists, or local madmen that made Oz feel slightly less somber.

Her short-lived bliss of absorption was rudely interrupted as her phone began to ring. With slight aggravation, Oz hit the button on the cable of her headphones, answering the call as the music paused.

"Hello?" she said, continuing her cruise as she neared the Tenley Metro Station.

"Oz! Where are you?" It was her cousin, Kaya.

"I just passed the Metro." Oz shrugged, forgetting that phone calls couldn't detect body language, no matter how well she lied.

"Don't be late tonight! I'll be at the dinner by the time you get back, so I left your dress on your bed. My dad needs to think you're a good girl, so I picked out a rather modest piece for you." Kaya reminded Oz in a stern, but preoccupied voice.

Oz managed to laugh at this assertion. "Are you implying that I don't know how to dress myself?" she contested.

After all the misconduct she witnessed Kaya indulge in as a young woman in Turkey, it was amusing to hear her speak like a politician. It made sense, being that Kaya's father was the Turkish Ambassador to the U.S.

"Just don't be late." Kaya's voice shifted back to her youthful one.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Oz breathed.

"And have you met with Holly yet!? She'll be at Robeks waiting for you- right now, actually. Are you even near the shop!?"

"Relax, I'm walking up to the smoothie shop as we speak," Oz lied, swerving out of a child's way. He was holding a melting ice cream cone; it would've been a shame if she, too, were to prevent him from enjoying a treat, let alone the sun beaming down its hellish rays upon his snack.

"Don't keep her waiting." Kaya warned as though reading off a list. "She's not the type to cross and you're already late. Make sure that doesn't happen tonight."

Oz gathered herself, looking back to see if the little boy was unharmed. "Okay, Kaya. I'm near the shop so I'll call you-"

"WATCH OUT!"

With haste, Oz turned her attention back to the direction in which her longboard was heading. Before the girl could shift her feet over the deck, she felt herself abruptly crash into a harsh metal bike and the boy who was idiotically riding it. The impact was sudden, but she felt as though the world stopped rotating once her movement was cut short.

A sudden loss of balance rendered her to fall backwards. To Oz's demise, she took down the boy and his metal monster with her.

Despite the groaning dead weight atop her body, it was the sound of a wooden board flipping carelessly along the cement that sent Oz's stomach to her feet. The pavement under her scraped limbs was scorching hot. Oz gritted her teeth, attempting to sit up from the crash and cursing this boy's existence. Aggravation was the first emotion that subdued her, considering she was tangled between the boy's limbs and his bike.

"OZ!" Kaya's protests filled her thoughts via her headphones; that miraculously remained on her head without any trouble. "Oz! What's happening?!"

"Nothing," Oz grunted, as she struggled to sit up. "I'll call you back."

Oz shoved the black headphones off her potentially concussed head and around her neck. She shoved the bike off her body once the boy got to his feet. Surprisingly, he rushed to retrieve Oz's board and couldn't seem to stop apologizing.

So much for enjoying a ride in the city, she thought to herself.

"Oh, God!" he sounded slightly panicked as he addressed her on the floor, placing her board near her bloody knees. It was from the metal gears and chain of his bike. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking ahead of me. It's like you appeared out of nowhere. Are you all right? I'm so-"

"-Sorry, yeah I heard you." Oz interjected during his subtle heart attack. "I'm fine." His dark eyes were genuinely worrisome, but Oz failed to notice as her hazel eyes remained fixed on the ground, scanning the area. "Or at least, I will be once I find my sunglasses."

Her sunglasses had haphazardly flown off her face on impact.

"Here," The apologetic boy rushed over to a pair of round black shades that laid broken a few feet away from where Oz sat. As he grew closer to Oz with her shattered sunglasses, she felt her heart sink further into the ground. It singed her crooked nose, of course that could've been from little sunburn, but those glasses were her darlings.It was like the boy was carrying a corpse and she couldn't look at the wreckage.

He held out his free hand for Oz. She took it without a word as he heaved her up to her feet, surprisingly with ease being that he wasn't a very muscular boy. She let go, ignoring her observation, and began patting off the dust from her clothes.

"I can buy you new ones if you'd like," he offered sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Oz sighed, trying not to sound too disappointed, although there was a small part of her that was bitter and it was persuading her to blame this whole incident on the boy. And yet all he could do was apologize. She hated being the irrational one in any circumstance.

"You're bleeding," he pointed at her knees.

Oz bent down to wipe away the blood with some of the dirt on the sidewalk as the boy began to curse his clumsiness under his breath. She wondered if he often talked to himself.

"There," she stood up again. "All better."

It wasn't his fault, Oz understood that much, but the adrenaline of the crash influenced her behavior as she rushed up to her feet and planted one on her retrieved board.

"Wait! Where are you going?" he quickly asked.

Oz turned back to him, placing her headphones over her curls. She looked at him with puzzlement, "I'm late for work." she stated. "Did you need something?"

He ran a hand through his auburn hair and his cheeks appeared to grow a shade of pink. "I-um, It's just- uh," he hesitated, searching for the right words, and Oz wondered why he was too careful with them. "Do you need something?" he asked, as though the very question confused him. As though he didn't believe those were the right words to say after colliding into someone with his bike.

Oz peered at him once more, a bit more skeptical this time. Did he expect more of a reaction? "No, thanks." She uttered. Without another word she kicked away the pavement behind her leaving the bumbling klutz to assume she needed nothing and that he should suspect nothing from her. With her mood off the rails, Oz propelled her board further and faster, away from the anxious stranger. Besides, he would feel calmer if she wasn't there to express her dismay anyway.

Broken shades and bruised knees; it was a great way to kick start her arrival back home.