Dog In Heat

The air is hotter than most nights, cooler than some. There is that damp feeling in the air, one you feel you can wring out, twisting your fists like a portable dehumidifier. Covers are not necessary and the down comfortable lays beneath you like a mat covering the floor for drying paint. The expectedly stale room feels comfortable without a fan, paying homage to the infrequent but penetrable breeze creeping in through the window screen. The pillows are still cool enough without the touch of body heat, they're pleasing for the time being, but soon my scruffy 4 day shadow will change that.

I breath in, out, counting sheep and avoiding clock-watching. Its too late for novel reading and too early for email chatter. Technology fails to serve a purpose - a rarity in 2013. I could watch porn. 

Breathe slows down and the relaxing and freeing feeling extends from my hollow lungs and enters my bloodstream. Flipped on my stomach grasping onto the pillow formed in a vague shape of a female companion, I squeeze. Wave of breeze. The momentary relief halts as quickly as it entered but my paced breath keeps me calm like a panting dog in Augusts Arizona heat.

There is a gap between my body and the faux memory foam mattress, its been widening throughout my brief tenure here. Like an opposing gravitational force, the gap defies Newton and lifts me upward. The height is negligible to the naked eye, the strange passerby glancing in on my supposed slumber like Bill Nye. The presence of a third party lingers over your shoulder, but a lack of neurological synapses prevent me from verifying its existence and I move forward amicably. My time in consumed with inactivity and the focal point of relaxation.

There is a slight tingle in my toes that caused a ripple affect hitting a tidal friction spot at my waist and settling there. It lingers and feels funny, almost tickling me and I laugh.

STONED.