It was another unusually dry summer. Every Roman’s mouth was painfully shriveled. The drought made water so scarce, it was more valuable than wine. Aurelia was heavily pregnant with her seventh child, and Septimius had doubts about his ability to provide for another mouth once it weaned off mother’s milk. Aurelia’s long, russet brown hair gently swayed as she walked, a warm but welcome breeze blowing through the courtyard of their home. Septimius vigorously rubbed his tanned hands through his wavy chestnut hair, shaking the dust out from a long morning of chores. There was simply no water to spare for bathing until the rains came. The children were running through the house, seemingly unaffected by the drought and scarcity surrounding them. Though, this wasn’t true. They had only found a way to escape it in their minds as they ran and played, imagining another reality. Antonia hesitated to interrupt their momentary gaiety for the day’s studies, so she stood and watched them for a time. Septimius was going to the markets to buy food and other necessities to prepare for the birth and the time after, when Aurelia would need additional help. They only had Antonia to help out now, and most of the children were too young to be of much utility yet. He estimated she had about a month before she would give birth so time was dwindling quickly. He pulled a clean tunic over his head and strapped his sandals on before mounting his horse. The arid, dusty roads accentuated the heat of the blazing sun on Septimius’ skin. His eyes narrowed in the bright light, revealing every wrinkle in his face, as he slapped the reigns to speed up the emaciated horse. He knew it was cruel to push the horse so far on so little provisions, but he had little choice in the matter. The horse almost seemed to sigh with relief when he was tied up outside the markets. Septimius’ worn sandals smacked against the hard dirt path, kicking up dust in his wake as he wandered from stall to stall. The smell of unwashed commoners wafted in the air. The competing scents of fresh food from street vendors and feces from the communal bathrooms were even stronger. Flies buzzed in all directions. His coins dwindled quickly as the mental list of supplies was ticked off. He loaded the horse and stopped in the communal bathroom. He finished and wiped with the closest tersoria before dunking it back in vinegar to clean for the next user. As he exited, he was met by an old friend. They stopped to chat. He was shocked at how ragged his friend looked now and he wondered if he appeared the same. This drought has been unkind to all but the wealthiest. His friend had bound himself to a wealthy Roman household just to have a steady meal, clean water, and coins to send to his family for their own provisions. Septimius had considered it himself at one time. Once he arrived home, he unpacked the bags the horse had struggled to carry. As a reward, the horse received a ration of water and a handful of hay. Septimius said a prayer to the gods for the horse to stay healthy, and another for the rains. He wondered if the gods had forsaken the lands. Why else had the rains refused to come? Aurelia greeted him as he stored the supplies and food. “Our coins were not as far-reaching as I’d hoped.” He said simply, and then he detailed what they afforded and, notably, what they hadn’t. Aurelia stroked her belly. “The storehouses are nearly empty. This will not last us.” The worry shone on her face. Septimius had almost forgotten what it looked like when she smiled. It was gravely evident to both of them now how difficult their life had become. Neither of them were truly prepared for what the coming months would bring. One thing was certain: if the rains didn’t come soon, the next few months would be their last.