Home on a Summer Night
It’s the grey that stiffens into the evening air that gets you, or more specifically its static nature within the walls of a house. Molecules don’t dart. They wallow with lethargy, not humidity, and they demand to be pushed around in order to move. Anxiety seems to clog up a throat from the bottom up. Take out and ice cubes. The bathroom is a mess, and don’t get me started on the closet. Hand held heat swapped for early sleep. Images on screens burn retinas, and the growing pains in my knees are back again.
