The room began to heat up in the mid-afternoon sun. He wished for a small fan to move the air around. In reality, this place is a firetrap and needs to be condemned but I can’t knock it, because I can’t afford the freight anywhere else.
He went over to the window and looked at the sky. It was clouding up. Sometime soon, one of those harsh summer thunderstorms that New Jersey was famous for would strike, and the rain would cool the roof and thus his room. Other than that, the window above his bed was the only source of air in the room.
He lay back on the bed, wishing for a fan.