The unbearable summer heat fell upon them in heaps; and the clammy hands of the children with sweaty necks groped for something cool to alleviate the ongoing madness. Even the waves of air from the strongest fan could not muster enough coolness to calm the children enough to lay them to slumber. The heat only rose and kept them from dreaming of cooler places. They already longed for those short winter days full of small pleasantries and hot sweets to keep their faces soft and hearts warm. They thought of the wonderful pitter-patters of the rain, similar to the light footsteps of a slim cat with melancholy eyes, and wondered how such a normal occurrence could be so beautiful.
But still, they awaited Daphne's return to the Underworld with such excitement even Hades could not compare. To them, those dreary, long months of cold and dampness served as a reality. A cold, hard reality that prepared them for months of dreaming once again.
Such a curious thing, for children to love reality so much. For them to embrace the truth and abandon their unearthly dreams so readily. To grow up momentarily. Every spring they would be thrown back into the dream once again and when summer came, the dream reached its peak. To be tortured by such sweet promises of summer hurt much more than winter's blistering winds. And so, they longed for the cold winters that would resonate deeply within their hearts and open the gateway to the city of truth.
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