Peter Hentges (jbru) wrote,
Peter Hentges

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Evidence of heat

Went out to lunch a little before noon and the heat sat thickly on the city. Little birds were popping about along the edges of the parking lot near my office in seeming contradiction to the heat pounding on the pavement. What I realized later, however, was that their appearance was just another sign of the lack of activity on the street. The sidewalks were strangely quiet, as if folks had the day off downtown. I grabbed a handy bus to save myself the steamy walk but the stop at each end was unpopulated. Even the streets seemed quiet, the siren of an ambulance wailing in lonely counterpoint.

As I waited on the bench for a bus back to the office, sated from lunch, I glanced up to the skyway crossing the street.

There were the people. Herds of them moving quickly in air-conditioned comfort, silent behind the glass panels.

Any other day their voices, cell phones and feet would add to the hum of the city, building up a richness of noise that tells you the place is lived in. Today, in their place, the humidity hangs dumb; unable to given even a ghost's whisper of the people that once lived here.
Tags: weather, writing

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