We harvested tomatoes flushed from the sun and sliced, ate them on toasted sandwiches, seeds dripping from our fingers, ate them plain with salt. Drank cold beer.
We went to bed early, the fan humming, passing voices drifting in from the street below. Falling asleep slowly, feeling comforted, like tired children with limbs sprawled, listening to the party wind down in the other room.
This is my favorite part of summer.