He sat with his head directly in front of the fan, sweat dripping down his face and off the tip of his nose. His shirt clung to his skin and he wearily stripped it off, dropping it to the floor beside his bed where his shorts and boxers had already been discarded. He reached for the glass of ice water on the nightstand only to find it was just water. He finished the glass in one gulp and rubbed it across his forehead before replacing it in the puddle of condensation.
Turning toward his only window, he glared at the broken air conditioner. Of all the days it could stop working it had to be this one. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do because the city had practically shut down due to the unexpected heatwave.
Groaning, he fell back and lay spread-eagle, allowing the slight breeze from the fan to reach his obscenely sweaty crotch. I’m going to die, he thought, staring at the familiar crack in the ceiling. My roommates are going to find my shriveled, dehydrated corpse and say, “Wow, this idiot deserved to die because he couldn’t afford a decent air conditioner, let alone rent.”
Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes and concentrated on what little comfort the fan brought him and his balls.