New York City, April 1, 2015

★ The skunk smell from a knot of teenagers carried half the width of the block and through the lobby doors. The new spring jacket had stayed in its delivery box. By the river, the cold bit into bare knuckles. The sky was a noncommittal blue to the west and a noncommittal white to the east; the light was waxy. Wool and down and fur filled the view up the stairs and out the subway exit. Unshared bikes filled the bike-share rack. Only the pigeons, courting on the ledge outside the office window, were noticeably feeling the springtime. The railing in the dark stairway gleamed as the late sun found it. A dirt-flecked puddle gleamed.