Burnt

[rejectomorph]

Another day of disruptions and heat. Air conditioners and electric fans vibrate the night air, and their faint hum is like the sound made by swarms of flying insects. Moths, steered wrong by the light of my desk lamp, bat against my windowpane, or alight on the glass, their eye clusters glowing like tiny orange jewels. I resist the urge to pour my nearby glass of water over myself. My ear has been bitten by a mosquito, and itches fiercely. I cannot remain in the intolerable heat of the house, no matter how many more bites I may get when I go outside. If I die of West Nile Virus, at least I'll be out of the heat.