She hated this kind of heat - still, unmoving, itchy, like walking through tall weeds in shorts and flip-flops. She was the kind of lunatic who visited New Orleans and Savannah in August and didn't blink, but the heat this week was a different story.
It was the kind of day where you wanted to find the coolest spot you could, somewhere dark, where you could wait the heat out with ice cold plums from the fridge, and a pitcher of iced tea with lots of lemon, and a copy of The Secret Garden. Naps are sure to occur. Maybe instead of iced tea, she wanted strawberry champagne served in a coupe, but that would have to wait until the sun went down, and she would emerge from her nest into the nightfall, the day turning to night, not as hot. But there wasn't a chance of leaving before then; better to stay where she was, in her soft from so many washes t-shirt dress, no shoes. Especially on a day like this, when a cat lying in a patch of sun had more motivation.
Yes, better to stay where she was. Waiting for the sun to go down, reading and dreaming quietly, until the night and she could rejoin the world, alive in the cooling twilight.
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