Snip from a prompt, I didn't make the wordcount for the prompt, so I'm posting it here instead.

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Mirra sprawled on her back in the scant shade of the rooftop and stared into the depthless blue of a cloudless sky. Thin streams of oily brown stained the perfection above her and the metallic stink of foundries only a few streets away bit at the back of her throat. She wiped sweat from her forehead and groaned at the persistent, hot breeze that blew by.

Hot as the roof was, Mirra preferred it to being indoors. The air was moving and by that a blessing, scant as the heat it carried made it. She just wished the tenement could be further from the city's industry, but this was still better than the canals. If the wind turned just so, the smell of it would envelope the whole city. Fish, refuse, rot and stagnant water all mixing with the effluence of alchemical factories and rendering plants river-side, all of it blended together into a choking miasma. How anyone could stand to work, much less live there, in high summer was beyond her comprehension.

She tried to remind herself of the better parts of summer. Of the flower stalls on virtually every street corner; of the markets full of fresh cherries, raspberries, strawberries and other fruit alongside sweet corn, tomatoes and peppers. Mirra recalled the fresh fruit and vegetables, rather than what had been preserved for the winter, and the smells of it all in the streets, of bakers making pies and pastries with them for a few glorious weeks.

Her stomach growled, but it was a half-hearted, wistful protest. The heat of the day had long since bled any real appetite out of her. She didn't want to move until sunset or later, but her shade was sliding ever so slowly away and she could feel the suns' hot touch on her bare toes. Mirra wriggled until all of her was back in the shade and tried to nap. When that failed she simply watched the passing airships as they left their dirty trails through the sky.