The Drowner
“There are breezes on the coasts, and summer tourists and packed beaches, but deep inland the country is emptied of all those who do not have to be there, and the survivors fortify themselves behind the busy rustle and clatter and cold clinical breath of the air-conditioning machines. It is a thick, wet, merciless, dispiriting heat, and those who endure it are like those who stay behind to guard a fortress, congratulating each other on their stamina, their sense of duty, and sneering at the ones... who have fled. The high thunderstorms roll across the land, and after a brief illusion of coolness, everything settles back into the steamy silence. The insects and toads are in constant shrill chorus, and the birds make small random sounds. Tan fades because the direct sunlight is too much torment, and flesh is mottled with rash. People wrap a hand in a handkerchief before touching the door handle of a car. There is a stir of life in the early morning, and a mild resurgence after the sun goes down, but through the long days the streets of the small towns are a baking emptiness, the infrequent pedestrian moving slowly, his shoulders hunched against the weight of the sun, his eyes slitted against the unending glare.MoreLess
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