It’s after twelve. My head is a little woozy and stuffy as it’s now sweltering in the office, stifling and making me nauseous. I’ve called maintenance twice to find out why they still haven’t fixed the AC; it’s blowing out tropical heat rather than cold air and baking us all. My face is flaming, and my pulse is beating fast and hard like I’ve been sprinting. My clothes are clinging to me with dampness, and I’m irritated because of the inability to breathe or find relief. It’s ...