My Hot Night
” The night stiffled; the air seemed to be coagulating. The single large windows, overlooking a garden, had been left open, -but there was no movement in the atmosphere. Bats -very large bats -flew soundlessly in and out; -one actually fanning my face with its wings as it circled over the bed. Heavy scents of ripe fruit -nauseously sweet -rose from the garden, where palms and plaintains stood still as if made of metal. From the woods above the town stormed the usual night chorus of tree frogs, insects, and nocturnal birds, -a tumult not to be accurately described by any simile, but suggesting, through numberless sharp tinkling tones, the fancy of a wide slow cataract of broken glass. I tossed and turned on the hot hard bed vainly trying to find one spot a little cooler than the rest.
Then I rose, drew a rocking chair to the window and lighted a cigar. The smoke hang motionless; after each puff, I had to blow it away. My woman had ceased to snore. The bronze of his naked breast -shining with moisture under the faint light of chlorine lamp -showed no movement of respiration. She might have been a corpse. The heavy heat seemed always have to become the heavier. At last, utterly exhausted, I went back to bed, and slept. “
Leave a Reply