The zephyr humbled the trees and the wicked sun evaporated all the energy out of life, leaving the evening to mourn over the stiff corpse of boredom. Maybe it was the torturous heat, but it took John twenty-five minutes, rather than the usually fifteen minutes to arrive at Karla Steelburg’s house. “Nice hat!” She uttered on seeing him approach the patio with his face three quarterly covered with a straw hat. “It’s no use!” He admitted. “Nevertheless it makes you look like a chivalrous country man from the nineteen seventies.” John smiled at her witty compliment, and held the hat to his chest. “Well thank you Mam, you are extremely gorgeous if I may say so, and your usually well-kept attire is ravishingly exquisite. Make a cowboy’s heart races if I might add.” John remarked in a musty deep southern country accent. “Stop, please stop.
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