dear internet,

i think about this so often that probably i've written to you about it before, but it is a hot day and on hot days i think of this: the cold tile of my living-room floor, the room darkened, the curtains drawn; in this memory i am young enough that we don't have the a/c on, and my grandparents are alive, and when i press my ear to the ground i can hear the whirr of their fan one floor down, like the ocean through a seashell.

love,
t