New York City, April 25, 2013

★★★★ Mares’ tails blew north and away, leaving the dome clear, the color deepest at the zenith. Down below the windows, treetops were the color of tennis balls. A child stood on the sidewalk outside the school, staring at the organic soft-serve truck, refusing to leave. Blossom clusters were soft pink fists. The toddler yelped and pointed straight up at the empty blue. In the gymnasium, under sickly yellow light, fresh air flowed in past the irregular ranks of children in crisp karate whites.