From Passing

By Nella Larsen

“Chicago. August. A brilliant day, hot, with a brutal staring sun pouring down rays that were like molten rain. A day on whch the very outlines of buildings shuddered as if in protest at the heat. Quivering lines sprang up from baked pavements and wriggled along the shining car-tracks. The automobiles parked at the kerbs were a dancing blaze, and the glass of the shop-windows threw out a blinding radiance. Sharp particles of dust rose from burning sidewalks stinging the seared or dripping skins of willing pedestrians. What small breeze there was seemed like the breath of a flame fanned by soft bellows.”

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