It was a humid, sweltering day in early September. The type of day which taunted with the feeling of ripe August. The type of day that made catching your breath while standing outside seem difficult. This was the type of day that Bridget hated.
The type of days she actually liked the best were cool, sunless, and rainy, where fog hung in the horizon and over the roads, where the air smelled of wet earth, cool pavement, and had hints of either coming spring or fall, it didn't matter which. Those days were nothing like this.
What Bridget hated most about this day was the absolute inescability of the heat, which made her face feel moist and soiled and her head throb. There was no place to go where you could be free of air that felt like dozens of bodies packed in a small room, despite your silly air conditioning. It was out of doors, and in; country and town. At least with the stubborn, bitter Wisconsin winter, once you reached your freezing point, you could always be sure that somewhere, you will be warmer. Even if you enter an enclosed space with no heat, the promise that eventually you could be warmed by your own body warmth is a promise of some kind, no?
Much Love, Best Wishes!