New York City, July 1, 2015

★★★ It was impossible afterward to remember in what order things had even happened: the flash-flood warning blaring on the phone in the dark, the purple stroke of lightning so bright it shone through the blinds, the bursts of rain clashing against the windows like gravel. By the groggy morning all that was left was dampness and muck, thick air and thin sun. People steered around puddles on the Park walkways. Shiny confetti lay submerged on the sidewalk downtown. All day the clouds were like a finger on a hair dryer’s trigger button, cutting the heat off and turning it on again. The sun went down with cotton-print stripes behind it, cheerful and harmless.