The humidity was in the air.
It was tight and nauseating.
My muscles ached against the chair.
The denim clung to my thighs,
as the oxygen left my lungs.

I wanted to speak, but my breathe was hot.
I wish there was a fan in this room.
It would whip the air around making a breeze;
like a breeze rustling against the trees outside the windows.

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