Beginning around June, the hot nights of Seattle have come with the most amazing and sensual breezes I've ever known. And the hotter the night, the more loving the breeze. This is the kind of love that can only be measured by coolness and length of stay. Though I have encountered breezes that stayed for almost a minute, most last for no more than a few seconds. These beings of the air come and go at random, which is why they are so useless on a hot night. They only relieve you from the heat for as long as they are around. Once they lift and depart, they take all of their coolness with them.

Nor can you hear the approach of a breeze. The leaves of nearby trees indicate nothing. All is profoundly silent when it slips in through the windows, stirs the curtains, settles on your bed, and cools your nakedness. And if you have been sweating, the more present is the body of a breeze. I have never felt a human touch my skin with as much affection as some of these summer breezes.

I have also never known a human lover to reject me with the suddenness of a breeze. Humans take their time to dump you; it's a gradual process. And when they finally tell you it is really over, they sometimes grant a mercy fuck. But no matter how loving the moment with a breeze has been, when it loses interest in you, it goes just like that. The coolness lifts and leaves your window with seemingly no thought of you or your time together. Its mind is already elsewhere. This hot night has other rooms, beds, and bodies. The breeze belongs to the city.