When I return, by myself this time, and in my own car, with a few final things in the back seat that Lara found around the townhouse and put out on the stoop as if to finally get rid of me once and for all, I find that the apartment is still as hot as it was before. The thermostat’s indoor temperature reads seventy-eight, even though the air conditioner is set at seventy. I try turning it down lower, but nothing happens—all I hear is a steady whoosh from the registers, but when I hold my hand in front of one of them, nothing but warm air blows out.
Damn.
Sweat dampens the hair curling on the nape of my neck. It trickles behind my ears and around my temples, and pools under my arms. I try fanning myself with the collar of my shirt, but that doesn’t do much. I head for the fridge, where th
