Summer Stream of Consciousness

Chicago summer humidity…

And her skirt is too short. Legs, shiny with sweat and lotion glide through the thick air, flecks from the pavement sticking to her slender calves. I envied her thighs but finished my M&M McFlurry anyway.

For the thirtieth time I flipped open my cell phone hoping for a message from him.

Nothing.

I wasn’t in the mood to be in my own company tonight, but wasn’t sure who else I would be satisfied sharing a drink.

Quickly, I shove the thought into a back corner of my mind with a shudder.

I regain my stride. Flip flops slapping the sidewalk in a steady rhythm. Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap I drown out my disgust.

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