Archive12: Humidity

It is a hot mid-May day in Revery. Stormflies buzz in anticipation. The sun, having given up on penetrating the heavy cloud over the city, has settled for baking its inhabitants alive.

A balled-up piece of paper hits Keeley on her sweaty forehead.

Capture

From across the room, Thursday meets her eyes and grins.

Capture2

The note passes in a quick volley between them, until a hand plucks it out of mid-air.

It’s Lesley. Or, as Keeley likes to call her, Staff Mum.

She sinks down further into her chair. She is so grounded.

****

Even the archives, usually cool, dark and aggressively de-humidified with five separate machines, have fallen prey to the heavy, sticky heat.

The damp leaches the last bit of glue on the tape holding a flyer to the wall, and it flutters to the floor.

sketch1495097333901

Bartholomew, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair clinging to his scalp, straightens up from where he’s bent over the fifth de-humidifier. It’s still sputtering weakly, despite his best efforts.

He picks up the flyer, sneers at it. He balls it up, and chucks it into the wastepaper basket.

The de-humidifier coughs and dies.

He needs a drink.

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