Regina Spektor - Summer In the City
It was the hottest day of the summer and their bodies stuck to each other, the sheets. Her air conditioner had stopped working, but the fan was on, loud, rattling at the foot of the bed. Earlier they’d nearly knocked it over. Earlier she had curled her toes against the wall and arched her hips for him, needy, begging. He had gripped and pulled and wrestled and fucked her, his fingertips temporary tattoos sinking into her skin. I’ll break everything, he said. She laughed and kissed him. But it was true, he would, one of these days. Their bodies were glistening and tired, and free, for now. But even then, he knew, probably, that he would leave New York. And she would sit, small and aching with the symphony of wants roaring inside of her, while the air conditioner would be fixed, and her room would become cool, calm, and so small.
Source: intedfictions
