It's in the way that at first glance, it looks like Larry's the only one with the summer genes. He's obsessed with the season. He surfs and skateboards. Everyone is drawn to him like they're tourists swarming to the beach. I can't even look at the ocean for too long without getting sick.
It took me a minute to realize that I have summer-y aspects, too. I just got the parts that nobody likes. I'm overbearing, I make heat waves, and sometimes it feels like if I really tried, I could dry up the entire Atlantic. The glazed-over look that some people get when they have to deal with me is similar to the listless stare that others have when the dog days of August set in. Another day, another attempt to survive my fiery attitude, my intense scorn for everyone that just looks at me wrong.
I don't know how to turn that off. Then again, Earth doesn't know to straighten itself out and keep its hemispheres from leaning so far into the sun's rays. The sun doesn't know how to fizzle out billions of years before it's due. I think that part of being summer is accepting that no matter what I try, I can't reduce the heat.