one day we'll all get still

The summer is quiet.Impossibly quiet, really; it’s like the whole world decides to hold its breath and count to ten, like everyone is so used to the silence that the globe itself slows its rotations and stills, stretching out the days until everyone’s shadows are long on the sidewalks and the sky is painted in a million colors. The humidity in the air clings to everything and weighs it down until it rests on the burnt-out grass, watching, waiting.Quietis not quite a large enough word to encompass what the summer is.(or: Evan and Zoe, a years-old friendship, and the humid nostalgia of summer)