It is too hot for November.
It feels like a sickness, like the beginning of a fever.
An unease has set in. Think of those scenes in horror movies where big flocks of birds on the spur of a warning we cannot hear begin to pass overhead, waves of them, all madly beating in one direction.
I do not know one carefree person. Not anymore.
Everyone is waiting, except the very worst who walk around wearing tight smiles and fist-bumping, sure now that their time is coming.
