"I'm suffocating" Tammy murmurs as she lounges on the worn, tattered couch, its cotton covering defaced with stains and lacerations, beyond any reasonable hope of ever being repaired. "Hm?.. Oh..." Junior, sitting next to her in the equally threadbare armchair, replies. Sweat beads on his forehead and rolls down his pale, almost yellowish cheeks. He holds what remains of his crumpled Camel cigarette between his long, thin fingers, as if he is too lazy to finish smoking it. "Well, can't really help you with that, can I?" His voice is hoarse and smoked through, with each said word sounding like it is draining all the last drops of liquid out of his body and evaporating them, slowly turning him into a withered, bony husk. "You could buy us an AC" Tammy smiles, sounding almost sardonic. They both know they can't afford it. If they'd tried, they would probably be able to scrounge up enough money for a big icepack that they could share between their bodies, refreezing it over and over again until it becomes just as frayed as the rest of the house. 

It is a hot and humid Texan summer day. Same as every other summer in Texas, but more stagnant. The air feels like it is squeezing the life essence out of everything around. Port Arthur feels barren and desolate. It always does, but doubly so today.  If one were to look at the empty, cracked road leading up to the house on 931 Dallas Avenue, they could see the slight distortion in the air that usually emanates from overheated concrete. Tammy Heller has been looking at it every summer for over three years, yet she still doesn't know exactly why it happens. She will ask Junior, and he will say "Uhm...I don't know? Must be something about physics", and she can't really blame him for not knowing: why would Junior know? Junior Francis does not need to know about things like that. Junior Francis can't fathom knowing more than he needs. Sometimes, Tammy thinks this void of inquisitiveness is in his very nature. 

Tammy tries striking up a conversation to take her mind off the heat. 

-How was work?

-Fine.

-Really? Just fine? Nobody got crushed by a shipping container?

They both laugh weakly. Neither of them finds the prospect of somebody getting killed at the port where Junior works particularly humorous, but the thought of something - anything at all - happening seems amusing. 

-Nope. Just...same as always. 

-Mhm...

Tammy rolls onto her back, the couch creaking violently underneath her. She stares at the ceiling. Maybe she's hoping that it will be more interesting to watch it in its absolute lack of movement than to blankly stare at the Astros game happening on the TV screen that seems to be barely capable of translating colour anymore, making the bright orange jerseys of the players look washed out and deeply uninteresting. 

-I keep thinking...Maybe I could, I don't know, take out a loan? Go to college? 

-And pay it off with what money, Tams? 

-I mean, I could figure it out. Some odd jobs here and there, maybe some lucky break...

-A lucky break? Here? Really? 

She sighed. Junior was right, of course. There was no college where Tammy Heller would fit in or strike it big. Not at this stage of life and no accomplishments to her name. The somewhat morbid awareness that this might be her life for the rest of her existence never really that  Either way, she had always dreamt of this: humid, languid heat, a house, a lover by her side, lounging away on a couch and doing nothing of note all day, just letting life run its course. She just didn't think it would come at 25 instead of 70. 

Junior and Tammy met seven years ago when they were both still in high school. They didn't come from wealth or particularly welcoming households, but they made it work as best as they could, always. At some point, they might have had a chance to live out the cliché American dream of "rags to riches", to go on a self-made hero and heroine journey. To achieve great heights from their impoverished, mentally arduous circumstance. It never came to be. It was never meant to, either. It was probably always going to end up like this. At least, that's what Junior has come to accept -- that no matter how much they struggle to make something of their lives, they are more likely to end up right where they are now -- debased, sitting in the stale, humid air. 

Tammy Heller starts daydreaming while staring at the ceiling. She imagines a better life. This state overcomes her quite often, especially in the summer, and she gets lost in it. She feels the same heat, but it's soothing instead of oppressive. She sees herself and Junior, driving far away to California, or to New York, or to Houston, or to anywhere at all, rich beyond measure and so ridiculously happy that their hearts almost burst from the feeling. The ceiling stares back at her with its unmoving bland expression. 

Junior gets up from his armchair, stretching his back with a squirming expression on his face, as if just the act of standing up causes him immense and unbearable pain. "I'm heading out for a drive" he says, yawning. He doesn't wait for an answer, and Tammy never graces him with one. Junior needs his drives sometimes, to "clear his head and to think", as he puts it. Usually those end with him coming back deep into the night, barely cognizant and with tired, hollow eyes. Nothing ever happens during these joyrides. He never tells her what they are all about, and Tammy does not really care enough to pry. She suspects he gets drunk and just drives around. She is probably right. She is worried that, someday, one of these will end poorly.

The heat persists, and Tammy Heller continues thinking of air conditioning.