Heat Waves
written by: Vic Naimanowska
Something autumnal crept into my dreams today, and I found myself eager to stay there forever. Perhaps, Sleeping Beauty made her choice willingly and dove into the eternal dream, where there was no place for summer. I open my eyes and a blurry reality crashes on me. There is summer, and there is me lying naked on the marble floor. What a blessing this floor is, and I am too lazy to stand up, walk to the bathroom, and step blissfully into the cold shower. I know it could help, wash off the dream and sticky sweat. Instead, I wonder. Summer is supposed to be sweet, so why does my body taste salty like the bottomless sea? I feel dizzy, my vision is blurred with sweat posing as tears. Unsticking wet curls from my neck, I suspect a wave potential in my hair and think about trying the curly method. My tongue dries fast and craves not for water but something ultimately fresher. I stand up, leaving a moist shadow on the marble. It shines and glimmers under the sun until it dries, too. I wish for comfort food weather, slicing watermelon for dinner with a dash of bitter liquor and soda.
It says 38 degrees in the shadow, and I can hear how the city is crackling and cracking, swearing out loud, eager to burst into flames. Perhaps, people find us dramatic, me and the city, but we are too hot to pull such a thing. I grab a lemon. I imagine it fresh and crisp, ready to save us all. It seems like a proper purpose of lemons, doesn’t it? I am wrong though, and my nose wrinkles, starting a wave of convulsions and confusion. How do lemons work, then? I stick my head into the shower, feeling cold and relieved, scared of catching a cold. I pull on a sundress, and it sticks to my body, asking why not stay naked and free. But my hair is dry again before I reach the room. I walk slowly to my place on the floor and lie down, my mouth still tastes like lemons. I close my eyes for a minute and see autumn and mushroom soup.
- Heat Waves - July 15, 2024
