My Favourite Season Summer Portable -

Summer is the season of three o’clock shadows and six o’clock sun. We played pickup basketball until our legs turned to rubber, the orange ball a sticky blur against the blinding blue sky. The blacktop was hot enough to fry an egg, so we played in bare feet, hopping from foot to foot like we were dancing on coals. When the final, desperate buzzer sounded—Sam’s victory roar echoing off the garage door—we didn’t go inside. We went to the hose.

I grinned, grabbed my gloves, and slid down the stairs’ banister, burning the back of my thigh. It hurt. It was worth it. my favourite season summer

“Pool,” I confirmed.

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. Summer is the season of three o’clock shadows