She crossed the street and stood on the northeast corner to wait for a northbound bus. It was another day of heat funk, ozone action, glare burning on every glass and metal surface. That year it would stay hot long after people were tired of it, into a parched October. Grass in the parks crisped like shredded wheat. ComEd kept cranking juice to air conditioners and praying the grids stayed up. The lake was a blue mirage of coolness. Chloe wore her lightest summer suit, the gray. She carried a black briefcase and a slim black handbag. She was part of the purposeful going-home crowd, everyone weary and irritated and trying not to show it. The bus arrived in its own wind of exhaust and grit. Chloe got on and walked halfway down the aisle, balancing, swaying slightly, until she found a seat. The bus left the downtown precincts and bumped its way north to Clark. Chloe got off at her stop and walked the three blocks to the apartment, and by now there was a lagging, dragging quality to her walk, as if the weight or the heat of the day had finally worn her down.
