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First Day of Summer, Redux

Would this summer be more fulfilling?

Drunk with the light that flooded the sky at four-thirty in the morning, he soaked in its richness. The sky was at first a pale blue and by mid-morning it became a deeper blue, and, finally, when the sunset, the light was lingering, high above, although the harbor was dark and the boats, making their way past the airport, seemed like so many busy acquatic fireflies.

He had met Viola the night before and now he was meeting Francine and, soon, Paula. Always outdoor meetings, at outdoor cafes, with crowds passing by. It felt like the set of a play, somehow, but the audience ignored them, they were part of the tableau.

Would any of these women invite him home, or take him up on his offer to leave town, to chase the luminosity of the summer skies, to embrace him, the summer light, the breezes?

That was the mystery of this summer, the first day that seemed like so many other summers. But, unlike spring with its heartache of rain and cold, its relentless two steps forward and three back, summer was here to stay. Until, of course, it came to a halting, chilly end.

Hopefully, he would accumulate more warmth and more tender exchanges before the first leaf turned.

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