New York City, November 24, 2014

★★★★ Sometime in the night, the rush of tires on the wet avenue began to penetrate the windows and the deafness of sleep. Rain spotted the panes as the deep blue of dawn brightened to gray. There was just enough variation in the cloud cover to show that it was moving fast. The downpour ended, leaving air too humid and warm for a jacket. The subway turnstiles and platform were wetter and drippier than aboveground had been. The clouds weakened and left, and the sky attained a piercing blue, the autumnal blue so rare this season. Only a wisp of cloud moved through it, here and there. After dark there was a warm lively breeze, a breath from another time and place, springtime in Boston long ago with the magnolias out. Late at night, through the still-open window, there came the grim throbbing of a helicopter.