the Air is more than thick, It is hot, touchable, an entity on its own It clings to my bare shoulders, sticky and uncomfortable, heavy like a wet towel the Air is humid, and when I breathe it, I feel as though I am underwater, struggling to find oxygen
When I finally climb the stairs and open the red door, I find myself relieved at the feeling of chilly air on my sticky skin It whisks away the heat and I shut the door behind me, knowing that summertime is here