Indian Summer

It was a copious summer, brimming with birdsong and the hot tongue of an angry sun. I stretched my toes over the cool mossy pavers, relishing in the smoothness of the loose sand that was once their bond. I must have stood there for at least half-an-hour, in the moment during a brief respite in what would become the most tumultuous summer of my life. But now it was June, and birds had only just begun to sing.