Elmo’s labored breathing increased in both volume and speed as he lurched through the last vestiges of his workout. He wiped the beaded sweat from his brow and remembered that only a week or two ago he damned the unseasonable wintery temperatures that stranded him indoors for months. Elmo collapsed on the floor in a pool of sweat and contemplated today’s partly sunny skies with highs in the mid-70s and tomorrow’s highs in the low 70s. The icebox and the bonfire, Elmo thought. Two months ago he was longing for a roasted marshmallow and today he’d kill for a popsicle — if he could only muster the energy to crawl to the icebox.