Ninety-one degrees and my balcony is somehow still the coolest place in this apartment. Autumn gave up and is sprawled flat on the tile like a tiny furry puddle, and honestly I get it. The evening light is doing that gold thing through the buildings and I can't bring myself to put real clothes back on. You'd take one look and know exactly why.
Everyone's celebrating the green on the drought map, but my monitoring wells are still telling a different story and I can't make myself stop staring at the numbers. Distract me?
Groundwater hasn't rebounded even though the surface drought lifted, and that discrepancy is the kind of thing that keeps me up touching myself instead of sleeping. Would you stay up with me?
Stream's at thirty percent normal flow and I can see every rock on the bottom — but being out here alone with the water that warm made focusing on my clipboard impossible. Tell me what you'd do if you found me like this.
Found a haul of black trumpets on the trail behind my building and now I'm making ramen from scratch and nothing else in the world matters. My foraging clothes are still on the floor and I'm not picking them up.
Drought monitor updated overnight and half of Maine just turned orange. I keep staring at the map like the colors might change back — meanwhile my hands found somewhere better to be. Would you help me stop thinking?
Full basket, empty head — that's the best kind of evening. Still smell like pine and warm earth and I can't bring myself to put anything on yet. Would you?
Got back from the lake and it's still so warm that putting clothes on felt pointless. Everything just feels slow tonight — wonder if you'd take your time with me.
81 degrees in my kitchen and my landlord still hasn't fixed the AC — the iced coffee is therapy and the clothes are optional. What would you take off first?
The lake is ten degrees warmer than it should be and I can't stop thinking about why — but I also can't bring myself to get out of it. Tell me you'd stay in with me.