Summer Months ((free)) -

July brought heat that pressed the air flat. The porch swing was useless by noon; she moved inside to the north-facing bedroom, where a ceiling fan turned slow circles. She read novels so long they felt like places she lived in. She learned to can peaches from the orchard two miles down the road. The syrup stained her fingers amber for days.

One evening, a thunderstorm rolled in off the bay. She sat on the screened porch and watched the sky split and mend, split and mend. The power went out. She lit candles, made a sandwich by flashlight, and realized she hadn’t checked her phone in six hours. summer months

On her last morning, she sat on the porch swing one final time. The bay was the color of hammered pewter. A single sailboat cut a slow path toward the horizon. July brought heat that pressed the air flat

Mara had pictured June: windows thrown open, a breeze carrying the smell of cut grass and salt from the nearby bay. She’d imagined reading on the porch swing, iced tea sweating in a glass, the long light of evenings that forgot to end. She learned to can peaches from the orchard