In the summer she sweats. Her skin sticks to the vinyl chair and her damp polyester skirts and the drained bathtub she lies in after she's clean. After the bath her bare wet feet make sucking noises on the linoleum and leave soggy footprints. She thinks her skin is sentimental and can't bear to leave anything. It is teary like old movies where the sweetheart kisses her soldier good bye at the train station. Her kissy skin makes a ceremony of everything it leaves. In the heat, it weeps and cries "don't go, don't go" to everything it touches. She wants her skin to disintegrate but it seems like her skin has other desires. It dreads its death and in the heat wants to gird itself with the man-made materials in her home. She hates this and is disgusted by her tenderhearted skin.