I step out the door and at once my breath is stolen from me.
Humidity slips down my throat and clamps off passages of air.
It grips my chest like a hellish demon.
I try to run, to get away.
But, humidity slows me down, making escape slow and unbearable.
It tightens and sings "I am not finished with you."
I feel myself getting dreadfully close to falling on the grass,
which is shining and reflecting the sun like a mirror.
I make it to the car and open the door.
Humidity laughs and says, "I live in here too."
Then finally as I take off at breakneck speeds, humidity's grip loosens.
It follows me down the road in waves upon the asphalt.
Oh, humidity, won't you please leave?
2 comments:
I feel your pain - it's hot up here, too.
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