New York City, October 22, 2012

★★★★ Would a paper cup of coffee have given the morning some complement or completeness it was wanting? A man held a small cup in one hand, steering a stroller with another. Across the avenue, a woman had a large cup in each hand, while the child with her pushed its own toy stroller. It was certainly clear; you couldn’t fault the clarity. What did it want of a person, though? On the rooftop next door, the astroturfed boutique-hotel roof, a shirtless man bared his shoulders to the sun, a disproportionate response if ever there was one. In point of fact, the shadows were spreading across the boards of the office roof deck. They were the salient thing. The sun wasn’t getting there anymore. A late chill crept inside the knees and ached there, a little. But there was nothing wrong with the evening airplane — livery still lit by the sun from below the horizon — crossing just over the bottom point of the white half moon. And after dark, the air loosened its bite. Now it made sense to be out in it.