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The party was over and I think my hair knew it. The outside world had not lost its humidity and I had not been tipsy enough to forget it was waiting, even as we’d eaten dinner, as we’d poured more wine. Though we were three weeks into July summer had just begun. My beauty felt absolute and the weather was getting to me. I wanted always to be in water, wanted to be around friends, and found it difficult to be alone. So indeed, summer had finally arrived with all its wanting. A perfect stillness, a humid quiet waited for us. The kind where you can hear the heat. Our shoes clicked against the ground, all the sounds were that you’d found in childhood when you woke in the middle of the night. Where far away car doors closed and people spoke loudly because they were sure no one else was around to hear. We were all leaving. We who had sat at the table all night, eating good home-cooked food, who had laughed and shared stories, played our game, and enjoyed the feeling of meeting in many ways for the first time.
The air was so thick our voices couldn’t carry. The words about getting home and nice to meet you fell flat against the pavement. Nothing lingered. In our hands, we’d had folded pieces of paper which we were instructed not to read until we were alone.
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