Hot August Nights

The damp sky pressed down on those who have stayed on through the middle of August. Collages of newspaper and magazine pages cover the windows and glass doors of the small shops in the neighborhoods that skirt the center of the city. Not all have a town home to escape to when the humid heat creeps into the city like San Francisco fog. Those who have no choice but to stay behind, dance a slow dance of their daily routines as if underwater.

She looks both ways out of habit and crosses the abandoned five lane street against the light. There is a strong sense of anticipation in the air and for no explicable reason she wraps the edge of her dress in her fist and runs across the wide street. She lets the material go and notes the movement as it flows against, around, and in between her legs. Seven cars hum by. There is a slight sort of breeze, but it has yet to penetrate the sticky surface of her exposed skin.

Feeling nothing and hearing only the constant sound of beetles in the trees, she passes exactly four people. Each seems to take forever in lifting their legs and returning them back to earth. Her eyes meet with each of the strangers' and hold until it is no longer physically possible. She is overwhelmed with the desire to swim the rest of the way home.