the room is hot. the a/c is off, to save on the electric bill. there’s sweat sunning down my hair and my thighs. it’s not midday yet, still the curtains are drawn. the bed hasn’t been made in days. the sheets could use a good washing but that would require too much effort, so much movement. my body grows hotter just at the thought of it. the air feels like sand paper in my throat. there’s not even a fan in the room. no wind outside, no artificial breeze inside. it must stink in here, but how would i know? i’m part of the room now, i barely ever leave it.
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a fictional non-fiction account of a day in summer heat
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