The heat of a thousand soups is warming this island. It's cool and quiet in my room, but I can feel the heat crashing in heavy waves on the walls. I lie back and put my hands under my head, watching the fan swing lazily, dragging a cobweb behind it.
I think about going outside. But I'm still very tired. And the thought of all those people sweating and rushing around in that sticky air makes me uneasy. I don't know a single one of them. Where do I start?
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