More murders are committed at ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit
than any other temperature.
Over one hundred, it's too hot to move.
Under ninety, cool enough to survive.
But right at ninety-two degrees lies the apex of irritability,
everything is itches and hair and sweat and cooked pork.
The brain becomes a rat rushing around a red-hot maze.
The least thing - a word, a look, a sound, the drop of a hair and - irritable murder.
Irritable murder, there's a pretty and terrifying phrase for you.
Ray Bradbury, The October Country
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