Summer Night

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It was scolding hot, not unusual for a May night. She laid in her bed, curled in a delightful and comfortable “S” shape. One arm rested on her forehead and one knee on top of the other, she was hardly fully conscious. Sleep was so tantalizing but that was all it was, never allowing her to actually succumb to it. The dry heat was trapped within the small rectangular bedroom, escaping only through the small gap of the window. She wouldn’t open the window anywhere past the safety latch and the blinds were drawn to halt the harsh moonlight. The room should have been black but dull light swarmed out from a delicate laptop next to her, which was rotated in a way that it fitted neatly within one of the curves of her position. Scarcely audible music sprang from the earbuds left on top of the keyboard. She had her songs on shuffle and one of the classical songs that she had always meant to delete from her library began to play. She left it on. From one of the dark corners, a mildly illuminated fan blew out whatever breeze that it could from its “low setting” mode. Her loose nightwear caught whatever wisps of air that it was offered but her bare legs became ironically cold despite the inescapably warm weather. The tips of her toes reminded her of winter but she didn’t bother covering them with the bundled up blankets on the far end of the bed. Eventually, her heavy eyelids led her gaze to fall onto her body and her lazy consciousness wandered about the distinct curves brought on by the soft lighting. Her feet disappeared somewhere into the dark but the roundness of her calfs were glowing and lean. She silently admired them until modesty reclaimed her even in semi-consciousness. But irresistibly, she wondered if this is what her husband would see her as someday when she would curl up next to him. She felt a warmth develop in her cheeks and she knew it wasn’t the summer night. She immediately rolled over onto her shoulder and away from the light so that she would face the dark and the fan would cool her face. But with the additional breeze, she decided it was too cold and she lifted herself from the bed to turn the fan off. Then, as the panels of the fan quieted with its slowing rotations, the only sound in the room was the soft orchestral music that was obviously and gradually bringing the piece to an end. When the last note played its full, she turned that off too. She kept the laptop on next to her to covet the gentle glow it offered. Quietly, she restated in her mind that she was alone and that, with a fast glance at the clock on the nightstand, it was already tomorrow. With that roaming in her mind, she tried once again to coax sweet slumber to take her. This time, perhaps, with a little bit more luck.





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