The lips are dry. The mouth is parched. The blood is hot. The skin is fevered. The greatest of all needs at the moment is a drop of cool water.
Water is denied.
At the foot of the cross, the death squad drinks in the presence of the dying man to add to his mental torment. The sun shines directly into the eyes of the crucified. Even when the lids are closed a red glare penetrates. The tongue thickens. What once was saliva is now like unloomed wool.