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'Heat'

Language > English
Type > Original fiction
Length > Short
Notes > For now, this is more of a situation sketch - or even an exercise in description - than anything else, but I am considering drawing it out and, shocker!, even adding some sort of a plot. I just have to come up with said plot. And I must say, what with the mid-winter weather here these days, it's getting harder and harder whipping out that summer-vocabulary. But who knows! Hopefully another update, be it an expansion on this or something else, a whole lot sooner than it took me now.

***

The coffee cups stood neatly ordered in the cupboard. She glanced at them (but her mind was somewhere else), then closed the door. A smothering darkness embraced the cups.
It was summer, the kind of day Shakespeare would never have compared his love to, for it was sweltering and clammy, the air humid and oppressing. There was nothing beautiful about it, nothing lovely. The colours were distorted to an ugly, paled version of their bright selves, the world seemed to shimmer with heat and bask in its vileness. No animal seemed to dare make a move or sound, for fear of disrupting some force that would keep everything in this contorted, repulsive state for good.
The lady at the cupboard sighed and rubbed her forehead. (To no avail; neither the head ache nor the steady stream of sweat stopped.) Her hand trembled slightly as it dropped back on the counter. The silence was ominous, only broken by an occasional grunt from the neighbouring yard, where a man had installed himself in a small patch of shadow (the temperature difference was negligible).
The tap started running (in response the man grunted again, louder) and the woman filled her glass with water, let it overflow for a second, the cold liquid running over her fingers before she stopped the stream. She didn’t drink immediately, in stead put the glass down and walked to the front window that looked out on a deserted street. Her car (usually a metallic light blue) was covered in fine red dust, giving it a dirty brownish hue. She closed a curtain. It cast a doleful gray shadow over part of the white living room floor. (She opened it again.) The man outside snored. She sighed and turned around, her back on the window, her eyes (for a short second) on the closed cupboard.
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