My cheeks are hot.
Too hot. Like I’m gazing into a fire slightly singeing my skin. It’s not a welcomed warmth. Not the kind you enjoy with a marshmellow…it’s the too hot to breathe…too hot to feel anything else around you but the burn on your face, kind of heat.
There are things to do. Items to check off. But I stand here not able to escape the heat. Can’t escape this feeling of…of…is it anticipation of …something to come? Or perhaps it’s the fear of just…being…
The heat makes me angry. I’m angry. Deflecting perhaps? Or is it reflecting? I read the words back and I’m inflecting with my hot, anxious voice. My hot hands grab to hold on…my hot angry mouth shouts out of fear and needing some comfort…my burning chest pounds out a hurtful song teasing with long pauses of possibility.
But it will end. The heat must subside. Eventually. Abruptly.
And then I will search for my next adventure….