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The temperature had been rising all day and by the late afternoon the heat was like an unwanted visitor, tiresome, heavy… She felt its weight on her body which, coated in a fine layer of perspiration, seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the wicker chair as if pulled by an unseen force.

She drew a deep breath and run her hands across her chest, spreading the moisture that formed tiny bubbles on her hot skin, slowly, deliberately, as if it were the seed spilled over her by an impatient lover.

The window remained closed, and she stared in resignation at the torn screen. She tried fixing it herself, in vain, as the insects buzzed around her, pushing, jostling to enter the room.

The doorbell broke her reverie, and wrapping the bathrobe around her, she unbolted the door.

He was tall, very tall, and at first her glance rested on his chest. She quickly looked up to meet his gaze, direct, unflinching, dark. He was leaning slightly against the doorframe, already inside in spirit, his body on the brink of movement, suspended.

She led him into the room and stood back as he inspected the window.

©aother

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