A summertime short story
The early evening sky gleamed, a uniform silvery blue with flat gray clouds hanging in painted forms like a child’s drawing. The summer sun had not yet set, leaving enough light to see my friends as they sped ahead of me across the lawn, the world draining of color in the disappearing light. It was hot, deep-south hot. The humid air draped us like a heavy curtain, thick and damp with the anticipation of a midnight storm. The nighttime creatures were starting a chorus, crickets and tree frogs chirping their summer melody. The smell of freshly cut grass dusted the air. There was laughter ahead; I watched as my friends played tag, darting in a zig-zag pattern on their way to the creek. I picked up my pace and tried to catch up with the group.
