Lemonade
A bead of sweat lazily snaked its way from my temple to my jaw. The bright, white hot sunlight was flooding through the large living room windows, making the air heavy and stifling.
The fan’s air was too feeble to push back against the wall of heat. I sat on the sofa, the energy sucked out of my body.
A tall glass of lemonade, cold enough to give me a brain freeze. Moisture condensed on the surface of the glass.
I wanted to press the glass against my bare chest, the ice cold sensation giving me goosebumps. I wanted to take a sip and trace its path down my throat. Sweet, sour and a little salty. Because I like a bit of salt in mine.
It took me a minute to stand up from the sofa, my arms and legs heavy and tired. I walked to the kitchen and turned on the preheat button on the espresso machine.
It was 4 PM. Cappuccino time. 4 PM is always cappuccino time. Not lemonade time.
Paired Listening
From the Five Part Body Playlist
