If you take a cold shower in the last hour of the afternoon, you’ll step out shivering. The air conditioning will be blowing through the vents in every third corner of the house, the owner having forgotten to turn it off when the sun slipped from the top of the sky. A wet towel is nothing compared to the blanket that’s still warm from sitting on the windowsill this morning, where you left it when you woke with a dry tongue and had no choice but to get up to fill a glass with tap water. The sooner you can get to the thermostat in the hallway outside your door and pin your cold hair atop your head, the better.
Published at Goon and Darling Do Flash Fiction on July 6, 2012.