This is the good heat. The kind of sweat that affirms the relationship between your skin and the giant star burning it's fuel 91 million miles away. Conversation comes easy well after the wine has stopped flowing and the food is no longer being served. Even though the grace period of summer has stepped past its pleasant threshold and has driven deep into the realms of inescapable heat sung to the tune of hundreds of hissing cicadas, we all sweat it out together over our equally as sweaty bottles of cerveza.
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