I try to sit comfortably, but the heat is unbearable. Sweat trickles down my back, a moist sheen covers my face, every breath brings about longing for a cold cold pool to knife into.
I stand near the window, the frog sounds deafening. I bang the shutter, hoping to scare away some of the creatures. The obstinate chirping and croaking continues.
A faint breeze from some sail miles away makes its way to my sweating forehead. I close my eyes and can only pray for winter.
