The wet cloth on the rim sends out cool waves, dragging your eyes like a magnet.
The sun is merciless on the back of your neck.
You watch the lemonade seller as he stirs the juice.
You imagine its sweet-salty-sour taste.
You hear the dull clink of ice, and smell the tang of the masala.
You can't resist it any longer.
"One lemonade please", you say. Bottled water be damned.