was a slow, drowsy exhale. The corn in the fields was taller than her head. The tomatoes in the farmers' market were so red and heavy they seemed to hold all the summer sun inside them. August felt endless, like a Sunday afternoon that never finished.
You live inside their beautiful, brutal, glorious story. seasons in usa months
Then came . And the world, quite literally, flipped a switch. was a slow, drowsy exhale
arrived like a slammed door. She stepped off the plane in Chicago, and the air bit her cheeks so hard they felt like two frozen apples. The world was a monochrome of grey sky and white ground. Back home, January meant sweat and mangoes. Here, it meant scraping ice off a car she didn’t own yet and watching people run from heated building to heated building like fleeing refugees. She hated January. August felt endless, like a Sunday afternoon that
Here’s a short story about the seasons in the USA, tied to the months of the year.