This heatwave was ridiculous, and the AC couldn’t keep up. Brittany lay sprawled on the living room floor under the ceiling fan which was pushing hot, sticky air around. She hadn’t moved in hours, limbs lethargic, sweat pooling under her arms and on her lower back. 

To amuse herself, she attempted to count the fan’s blades, but that made her dizzy. Instead, she imagined herself swimming through the heavy humidity. This was insane; she needed to get up and do something useful, like empty the dishwasher and check her email.

Keys rattled at the front door, and she groaned. Was it that late already? 

“Hey,” Nick said, coming in and loosening his tie. “Did you check to see if the HVAC was on?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Paper crinkled as he approached and handed her a cherry popsicle. 

It was tempting to put it on her forehead, but it was already melting. A bright red drop of juice splashed her cheek, making her jump. He padded down the hall, and moments later the HVAC growled to life, the vents pushing a beautiful, chilly breeze into the house. 

“It’s cooler outside than in here,” Nick said, joining her on the floor with a purple popsicle.

“It was off?”

“The power kept surging last night, and I didn’t want it to fry.” 

She blinked.

“Sorry, forgot to restart it before I left.”

 “Seriously?”

“Also, you butt-dialed me, so I came home early to check on you.”

Word: popsicle | Action: melting