"An Electrically Charged Monterey"
I wish she'd say something - anything - for me to go on, but we sit in silence as the fan's momentum sags in the late afternoon heat. Sometimes when it gets awful hot like this, it seems like Monterey seeps all the sap right out of home appliances.
Her AC's been out for days. I've told her she could stay with me instead, but she just says that she's stuck here, for reasons I can't know. I don't get it, but Monney does get a little more lively once it hits ninety or so.
A handful of hair blows over her face, even though there is no wind. I watch for any clue as to what she's thinking, but she just watches the cars driving too fast down the beach road, full of drivers with little interest in who's right and who's wrong. I hadn't noticed it slowing, but the fan's stopped spinning completely.