The heat dome is hovering and the dew point is in the high 70s. So’s the humidty percentage. Welcome to the good ol’ summertime. I’d roll my eyes but I’m afraid to get sweat in them. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m sitting under a ceiling fan with the AC going. Because it is so miserable outside, today’s theme for #1LineWed is apropos: heat, humidity, hot. Luckily, I had just the scene to share from NIGHT WISH. I’m not going to set it up, just let y’all kinda roll with it because I’m all mean like that. 😉
Early to bed, early to rise. Welcome to my life, I thought bitterly. I was neither wealthy, healthy or wise. No. I was simply mired in a swamp of depression, regrets, and feeling totally stupid. Why was I here? What had I been thinking? Masochist. That was me.
The AC in Rascal worked overtime. “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” the weatherman had intoned that morning. Seriously? Heat plus humidity added up to danged hot! And my hair was the lastest victim.
I heaved out of my car then leaned back in to grab my bag. I hated this job. Hated my apartment. Hated my life. I even hated myself but could I hate the one person who was the basis for all this? Oh, hell no. Not me. See? Masochist. Totally. I shut my car door and beeped the locks with my fob. Trudging to the front door, I fumbled for the other set of keys.
Something slammed into me and I careened into the building’s entrance, my face smashing against the glass door. Stunned, I tried to figure out what had happened. I caught a reflection in the glass. Two men. In hoodies. One had a gun. Did I mention I hated Mondays?
“Open the door, bitch.”
Stars zoomed around my head like in the cartoons but my brain decided it was time to think. I could unlock the door and not hit the alarm code. Or I could hit the panic button. Or…not. Had my employer paid the alarm company? I’d bugged him about that for two months now.
I dug in my bag for the keys, managing to spill a bunch of stuff in the process. Not that I cared. The one with the gun was now pressed up against me and the barrel of the gun pressed into that soft indention at the base of my skull. A shadow flickered in my peripheral vision and then there was nothing around me. I checked the glass door for reflections. No. Wasn’t my imagination. The two men were gone. Poof. Like puffs of smoke.
A third man appeared, this one tall, muscular, and wearing an all-too-familiar vest. For a moment, my heart seized. Wizard? But it wasn’t. Another Nightrider. One I didn’t recognize. He shook his head and looked like he wanted to tsk at me.
“Seriously, babe. You need to find a better job.”
Did I mention I hated Mondays? They just weren’t conducive to good health.
What are you doing to stay cool? Writers, do you have any heated words to share? Readers, where’s your favorite place to indulge in a good book when the temps steam up outside?