Heat

It is 32 degrees and not yet noon. Out shopping, the air is languid and thick. I can feel my temperature rise like in a steam room, beads of sweat forming at my temples. Under the unobscured January sun, I feel light-headed, forced into a trance. According to The Weather Channel, the UV index = 11, extreme. I believe Monrovia was hotter, but at least a breeze came off the ocean. Returning to the cool vault of the open-air hallway in my building, I can breathe again. That there is no swimming pool at my disposal seems a particular injustice. But I have one air-conditioned room in my apartment, thank God for that.