Flamingo Heat

Every city has a legend.
Miami has a flamingo.

Not the quiet, postcard kind — the one that owns the sunset. The one that perches on a weather‑beaten post in the middle of the ocean like it’s a throne. The one that watches the skyline glow pink and purple as the day melts into night. The one that stands tall while the world rushes around it — boats slicing through waves, palm trees swaying like they’re keeping rhythm, skyscrapers flickering like neon heartbeat monitors