Summer

"Ugh, I hate summer," she said (fanning herself with a cocktail napkin). "It won't stay hot like this," he reminded her. "We'll have nice, easy, non-sweltering days." "It's not that," she responded, looking outside (squinting her eyes), "it's the light - the bright light. It's SO BRIGHT that it ... well ... it makes me feel darker than usual inside, like I'm made of shadow." She alarmed herself by saying this out loud, and quickly turned to him to offer a tight, hollow smile. She misread his reaction as surprise and began to blather (changing the topic to something bland), but he had never felt such sameness with another person - had never felt more seen.