“It's so unreal, didn't look out below; Watch the time go right out the window”

I mosey out of bed, grateful to be away from fits of sleep. I had tossed, turned, and spasmed, unable to find a restful temperature. The heatwave proved too much and the window air conditioning didn’t produce the wintry mix my body craved.

Ambling through the dark, I dress in loose-fitting cotton attire and make my way toward the kitchen grabbing a homemade chocolate protein shake and large stainless-steel bottle donning various “Life is Good” stickers filled with ice water.

As I open the side door to the driveway, the stale humid air gives me a glimpse of the day ahead. An audible groan escapes my lips, greeting the bright morning light.

Inside my sedan, I drive toward the gym taking gulps of protein shake, knowing the building at the five o'clock hour will be stuffier than the previous evening when my other half, our low-rider black mutt, and I strolled around the block. An open window and morning news temporarily distract my pending fate.

When I arrive at what should be my refuge, the humidity is as I feared. Commercial fans blow the air around, but the aura is irrelevant and still stagnant.

I greet the morning crew feeling sudden angst. I blame it on an uneasy night of sleep and a poor decision to mow the front yard the previous day. Determined to push through, I start the workout. Tension mounts. The stickiness grabs hold of my spirit, wringing it like a sponge.

Tears and nausea threaten to surface.

In a panic with looming despondency, I move from my space and ask my trainer if I could, instead, go for a walk. My face contorts, trying to control the onset of tears. She approves and I sneak into the free-weight room to grab a heavy vest.

Exiting the building, my feet steer me away from the parking lot and onto local roads, a first for me. I watch traffic whiz by as I follow on the sidewalk. My mind goes blank but the tears have not yet changed their direction. A few escape.

The sun shoots its beams from the heavens like human taunting a cat with a laser light. It fries everything in its path - myself included. Spots of shade dissolve at a frightening rate. Sweat drips from my face and the weighted vest pulls my shoulders toward the ground. I change directions, back toward the gym.

A familiar SUV pulls away from the busy road and the front passenger-side window rolls down. I approach it, and awkwardly lean in. A friend's warm smile greets me. She asks if I’m alright and where had I gone. I point in the direction and answer positively, blaming the humidity for my escape. She informs me of the tiny search party sent out to look for me in the parking lot. We both laugh. She lets me know a text will be sent confirming my whereabouts.

She drives away and I return to the gym realizing the journey lasted just two miles – not enough to be missing, but far enough to prompt concern.

When I return home, the house is as I left it: quiet, dark, and seemingly in order. Kenzie, our long short canine, leaps off the king-sized bed, nudging the door open, and greets me with a huge smile, wiggling tushie, and waggling tail. After a quick "hello," I go about my usual morning routine to get ready for work and pack a lunch.

After a shower, I dress in my craft room so I don’t disturb the light sleeper who occupies the other spot in the bed. Eventually, I mosey into the main bedroom to grab something. Kenzie follows, bounds on the bed, grunts, and runs amuck.

“From now on, when you get up in the morning and Kenzie follows you out, can you just close the door? She’s been in and out since you left, jumping on the bed and back down again.” He lies on his back, corpse like, under top sheet and comforter. His eyes are closed. He shows no emotion. His voice is agitated and tired.

I scratch our Kenzie’s coarse black hair and kiss her forehead. She gleefully smiles.

“OK, but I can’t say I blame her. It’s air conditioned in here,” I playfully reply. Belatedly, I add in, “I’m on her side.”

I exit the room, leaving the door opened, and head out for the day. I feel no better or worse, just unsettled.