Maybe it’s the yearning for the long summer days to continue on forever. Or maybe it’s the anticipation of having a holly jolly holiday season in just a few months time. Whatever it is, there is something distinctly special about the last lingering days of this beautiful season. Friday night, for example, was a perfect night. It was the kind of warm night which begs you to go for a walk, a walk in which you will break the finest of sweats.
Alan and I walked around in our glowing skins, watching the sun sink in the sky, before we decided to get some dinner. At the restaurant, I ordered a glass of soybean milk and, as I sipped it, I noticed Alan’s eyes, specifically, the whites of his eyes which had somehow managed to turn nearly completely red. He didn’t seem too bothered by it though; what did bother him was the blistering cold of the restaurant. Sitting in my sleeveless shirt, I hadn’t noticed it was cold at all. As I marveled over the refreshing qualities of my iced beverage, Alan closed his menu and ordered a piping hot soup.
As we drifted off into sleep that night, I dreamt that I was floating down a cool river, basking in the intense orange warmth of the last days of summer. When I woke up, I realized the river I had felt was Alan’s sweat that had soaked the sheets through, and the sun that had been wrapped around me was actually his body lying next to mine, radiating such a brilliant heat that I wondered if I shouldn’t get up to put on some sunscreen.