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You're watching the condensation slide down your glass, wondering if the humidity in this valley is personal or just seasonal.
You were vibrating at a frequency that shouldn't exist in a city governed by the laws of thermodynamics and the MBTA.
The humidity in the ballroom was a physical weight, pressing the scent of expensive gin and industrial floor wax into the back of his throat.
You looked like a man who had just lost a multi-million dollar account, or perhaps found something much more interesting in the stairwell.
!["You’re Smirking Into Your Gin Again"](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you’re-smirking-into-your-gin-again"-364-cover-1783987240275.jpg)
I looked at the phone in my clutch, the screen a tiny white sun against the charcoal walls of the gallery.
The condensation on the Chablis bottle was the only thing wetter than the look Claire was giving the estate manager.
You looked like a problem in that vintage university sweatshirt, specifically the kind of problem I’ve spent ten years trying to solve.
The mahogany desk was cold against her thighs, a stark contrast to the internal temperature spike recorded at twenty-one hundred hours.
!["You’ve Been Holding Your Breath Since the Lobby"](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you’ve-been-holding-your-breath-since-the-lobby"-583-cover-1783814453050.jpg)
The humidity in St. Barts was a physical weight, much like the expectation that I would remain composed while Kieran dismantled my autonomy.
He had a smudge of lithium grease behind his ear that I wanted to lick off more than I wanted the champagne.
My pulse was doing the same frantic dance it did during the 2008 Lehman collapse, all high-stakes panic and impending ruin.
The humidity in Tulum was a physical weight, like a bad quarterly projection, and you were standing by the mezcal bar looking like a liability.