Casanova by Ian Kelly
8 min. 12.11.12 @ Sense Appeal, 96 Spadina
Hot sweats. That’s what she calls them because that’s what they are.
She was never prone to sweating. It wasn’t a question of physical exertion; despite being active she was never one to have pit stains. But now the simple act of sleeping is a betrayal of flesh and an anarchy of wetness. Three nights this week, she wakes cold and wet, having to get up for a towel. Night baths; that would be a better term. The sheets are completely soaked but changing them is too much effort; she puts down the thick beach towels, strips off the nightie and crawls back under the summer weight duvet. She wonders how much longer her ‘Ashton Kutcher’ groom will abide banishment from the bedroom. They both thought they’d won the lottery finding each other. If they can get through this without either one of them pulling a ‘Demi’, they might have a shot.
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