Her head was filled with the singular thought that the atmosphere around her was heavy and warm. Tired arms crossed as she slipped her oversized shirt over her head. Tossing it without noticing where it landed. Her cool arms slide across her hot stomach. It feels like splash of cool water. Or maybe a breeze of summer's end. A wet cloth on a fevered forehead.
Maybe she was sick. The haze didn't seem to lift from her head. Perhaps she was just tired. Sinking into the simple pleasure of cool skin on hot.