My Favourite Season Summer //free\\ -

Around nine o’clock, the air grew heavy. The crickets stopped chirping. A hush fell over the neighborhood. Then, a flicker of light behind the hills, too brief to be lightning, more like a camera flash from God. Sam would look at me, eyes wide. We’d grab our skateboards and race to the highest point of the street—the old fire road.

School was a whole different life. This was the real one. And it was just beginning. my favourite season summer

It hummed and rattled in the window of my bedroom, making all the right noises, but the cool air it promised was a myth—a faint, apologetic whisper against the tropical onslaught outside. I lay on top of my sheets, a sweaty starfish, listening to the cicadas fire up their tiny, frantic engines. It was the first official day of summer vacation, and the world had turned into a green, buzzing, delicious sauna. Around nine o’clock, the air grew heavy

Dusk arrived like a bruise—purple and gold and tender. The air cooled just enough to remind you that the world wasn't actually on fire. We ate dinner on the back porch, corn on the cob dripping with butter, watermelon that stained our chins pink. The conversation was slow, interrupted by long stares at the horizon. Then, a flicker of light behind the hills,