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Work or not, today is the first day that it really feels like summer. It was sweltering all afternoon, the asphalt making the world look like it's underwater, and the soup-like air thick with humidity, coating your skin with a thin film of hot moisture. Now that evening has come the sky is a symphony of post-storm cotton candy magic. The courtyard here smells like rotten magnolia blossoms, sickly sweet like cheap body lotions, almost overbearing. The heat has been reduced to a soft, warm blanket kind of feeling, the exact temperature that draws the blood in the veins closer to the surface, leads it along faster and faster, makes adventure stir in the soul. A quiet restlessness, a decrescendo, adagio. It's a time when breathing can feel like a pleasant chore. The cicadas buzz like electrical pulsing, the crickets chirrup softly under blades of long grass, the colors vivid but deep. I saw a bat chasing lightning bugs across the lawn, swooping and diving and rolling, eating up the flamboyant little dancers. A cat hurried across the parking lot and ducks into some bushes on her night errands. I threw a rock just to see how far it would go in the slowly deepening molasses sky. The world gently nods its sleepy head and everything is miraculous. Summer has returned, and with it, Wonderment.


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