The Hottest Day of The Year

The blinds of the houses in our street have been kept shut. A cat is drinking from the base of a fountain. Pedestrians seek bits of shade, accelerating their step in between. A few tourists try to beat the heat to make the most of their planned sightseeing day. I feel for the builders and other workers already dreading the mid-day heat. The city is still recuperating from the festival that happened over the weekend. A guy sits on a small waggon driving oleander plants from A to B; he looks bored and thirsty. I take a sip from my water bottle. Some of it drips onto my blouse. It dries within seconds. I regret having skipped the lawn sprinkler at the park earlier. The shops in the old town have put lounge chairs for the garden in front of their stores, and the vegetable shop owner has put out an extra umbrella to save his produce from the heat. Only the kids on the playground under the large old trees don’t seem to mind the heat. I make my way to the lake to go for a swim before the midday heat. As I plunge into the water, I feel a deep gratefulness for this place, the lake, and its clear waters. I leave immediately after my swim. On my way home, I hitch one of those small boats that drive down the river – for the first time in the ten years I have lived here. At home, the cat still naps on the balcony. I hang up my swimsuit and towel and turn the leftover coffee from the morning into an iced coffee. The apartment is still relatively cold, it is time to get to work now.