A different kind of post- here's a short story / passage I wrote a while back. It's probably the first real piece of writing I've written, so it means a lot to me. After showing a few friends along the course of four months, with my friends of course encouraging me to publish it somewhere, I've decided to be brave and post it here. I hope you guys don't mind- constructive criticism would be very much appreciated!
Summer came like spray paint, covering the entire city in a thin coat of humid heat. Every day was heavy, every breath was strained and hung thick in your lungs. It was that wet kind of hot- by the time you had walked the one hundred or so metres from your air-conditioned retreat to the air-conditioned corner shop your brows would be drenched, and the nape your neck would be sticky with the air. Your clothes would cling to you like glad wrap.
We spent that Summer together, on your bed with the air conditioning on full blast and your lips on my neck. I liked that part of Summer- the days were longer, and the sun would still be up when I left your place, maybe at six or seven or even eight. The eight o'clock kind of Summer wasn't too bad. The sun wasn't as harsh, and kissed your skin softly. The dusk was soft, and forgiving.
I woke up every morning wanting to kiss you. I would call you in the morning. You'd answer, in that sort of sleepy, monotonous sort of drawling. I imagined you naked, cocooned in your sheets, slack-jawed and dry-mouthed, mumbling, "Hello? What time is it? Why are you calling me so early? Can you come over now and join me?" I liked to hear your sleepy voice, so vulnerable and unaware. I liked that you wanted to wake up with me, I liked that my voice was the first you heard every morning.
Even the hot, sticky walk from mine to yours (a good forty or so minutes) was bearable for the thought of being able to lie next to you in the cold air of your room. And so I went, and you were always sleeping when I arrived. We showered together, once. You washed my back, and then you pushed me against the cold wall and kissed me under the lukewarm rain of your shower.
We lay in bed for a long time, after that. And then the Summer was over, and the Autumn came like thunder and all of a sudden the sun set at half past five and the air grew dry and cold and you grew dry and cold and school started.
I woke up every morning wanting to kiss you. I would call you in the morning. You'd answer angrily, "What? What do you want?", mumble about your headache. Sometimes you'd miss the entire day of school. Sometimes I wouldn't see you all week. One morning I woke up and the sky was still dark, and my mouth was dry and I couldn't remember how it felt to kiss you. It was then that I knew the Summer had really ended.