This is a fill for the wild card spot on my ladiesbingo card. Also, happy birthday, Addy!
The rays of sunlight beating down against Addy's sweat stained skin are so hot and thick that they seem almost tangible. Only an occasional hard gust of wind coming up from the south offers any relief, but it is so rare that it leaves her memory as soon as the freshly sprouted leaves stop shaking. If this is the start of spring, then she dare not imagine the coming summer.
The scorching air encasing the surrounding city has made the days prior nothing but a foggy memory. Addy can only marvel at how only a week prior the thick snow of winter still sat snugly on the surrounding streets, slowing Philadelphia's residents in its icy grip. The slush has receded now, the spring air alive with vigor. Every joint in her body has come alive with it. Her knees and elbows twitch, jerking as if they wish to pull her in every direction at once. It is only M'Dear's hand on her knee and Sarah's steady stare that keep her in her seat.
"More tea, M'Dear?" Sarah asks. It is a miracle that the three haven't emptied the pitcher after all the glasses they have nursed.
M'Dear shakes her head, sending a lock of silver hair free from her once tight bun. Raising her wrinkled free hand, she wipes it away from her nose. "We musn't spoil our appetites."
The smile that the two share is so quick that Addy would have missed it had she blinked. A question rises in her throat, but she swallows it before it can cross her tongue. The whole boardinghouse had been sharing much the same look since she woken up that morning. The sun had barely been up before Sam and her mother had shooed her out the door, neither able to keep their eyes off the other for long.
Addy can only guess at what is going on inside the faded brick building. For a time, a song that she faintly knew the tune of had poured from the widely opened windows. Yet the air is silent now, the only sound in her ears the steady beating of Addy's own heart.
Grabbing her glass, she takes a long sip. The melted ice inside has turned the once deep cinnamon colored brew pale.
Ice cream, she thinks. Never has there been a better day for ice cream.
Addy looks between her companions, as if the answer to this elaborate riddle is written across their faces. She knows the date well, but what lies ahead is anyone's guess. All she knows for sure is that, certain as the roaring sun must surely set, this grand game must eventually end. If wisdom truly came with age, then not a full day into eleven she at least understood that.