Like Water in August

A HISTÓRIA

It's Friday, August 31st, 2029, a minute to midnight, in Pureza Street. It's still thirty-four degrees. Manolo is back from a month at the beach, as brown as a walnut. The sign on his shutter says back on the first of September, and Manolo keeps his word to the minute. On the stroke of midnight, as Friday turns into Saturday, he rolls it up, for one night just for the neighbours, because, he says, a holiday is a holiday, right to the end. Half the street is waiting outside. Sarah and Julian got back from the north yesterday, with a Basque cheese, a grey jumper, and a lot to tell. At one in the morning, the presents come out, and the talk turns to September. This is the conversation you'll be able to say by the end of the lesson.