hot-hot-hot so hot

and the sky opened up as I sat on a candy red chair. his voice was drifting off, the top of my head was gone and the sky was being inhaled by a rather large energy. I could feel the gentle breeze pulling, then pushing my arm hair. I was truly not the only one breathing; he was breathing as he mouthed the word "hospice", the squirrels in the yard were panting; hundreds of house sparrows shut their mouths. "I'd like to be allowed to die," he said. Yes, it was a hot day and we were all gasping for fresh air. The heat of the day had burned my skin. and the sky opened up with a gentle rain, a soft sparse rain, I swear I-only-counted-seven-drops kind of rain. I looked down at the document in my hands, his living will. and the sky snapped shut.