Blown Away

Steamy as usual; as all hell. The shower late afternoon had been brief and light, the window of the room needing to be opened in order to confirm the fall—like a timorous visitor lighting knocking on your door. A hot night had been followed by hot day. At the Warnet the hour sit had cooled the sweat more or less; trooping back the tee was soon sticking again. Onward and upward nothing for it, quick time. The locals were slow, shuffling usually both young and old. Crossing Guillemard against the lights few were game, the three and four lane divided roads still daunting for many. On the bridge over the dirty river a drift of cool air seemed to have risen up though the concrete slabs from below. Had the afternoon fall provided something after all possibly, some movement of the water too. The entrance to the mall, City Plaza, lay another 20 - 25 meters off and the corner of the building screening the automatic glass doors.