First Summer
It was so hot that summer that they kept talking about it on the news. During the day, the air was so thick with moisture that it was hard to breathe sometimes, and at night the bedsheets stuck to your
The summer was so hot it dominated conversation on the news. Daytime air felt heavy with moisture, making breathing difficult, while nights brought bedsheets sticking to skin like a shroud, causing unsettling dreams. People continued their routines, but it was evident they felt this was not a suitable way to live, yearning for the comfort of hibernation through the worst of it.
A girl, unknown to me, moved into the brown house at the end of the road, arriving one day seemingly out of nowhere in a blue car. The car stopped at the house, and after Old Mrs Dickie waved, the girl and driver unloaded her belongings. Old Mrs Dickie handed the driver luggage consisting of two mismatched suitcases and a small red holdall.
After the car departed, the girl and Old Mrs Dickie locked eyes before she offered her hand for a handshake, which Old Mrs Dickie accepted. The girl then ushered her inside, closing the door behind them. From my porch, I observed the exchange from my rocking chair, feeling as though I had melted into it, longing for a breeze that was absent.
I spent another hour in the chair, reading and sipping lemonade, feeling content with my solitude. However, the girl never returned, and my mother called me in for dinner. I missed her arrival, feeling exhausted despite the oppressive heat.
Written by urgent.news from Literary Hub's reporting — not their text. Machine-written — may contain errors; check the original before relying on it.
