New York City, July 27, 2015

★★★ A man on the train, wearing a pocket square in his suit, blotted his brow with a cheap paper towel. Clouds were obstructing some of the sun, but the new crosstown walk to the new office was bleak and gray. In lieu of a center window, there was a sheet of translucent plastic taped up, the bottom loose and flapping. The clouds withdrew their protection. Up by the east corner of the Park, a stream of campers in green t-shirts and white visors was pouring across the street. Freed from his own day camp, the three-year-old decided he was too hot or tired to push his scooter the final block home. The daylight was still long enough to plan to go out after dinner, but short enough that its expiration made a plausible threat for dilly-dallying eaters. Sunbeams flooded the apartment in such quantity it was hard to tell which light fixtures had been turned off. Slicks of algae were growing in the persistent air-conditioner drips at the foot of an apartment building. The playground fountain was still going, but the concrete yard was almost empty. Now and then, another family’s hitting practice crossed over into the boys’ fielding practice, or vice versa — vice versa especially when the three-year-old uncorked a throw. A peachy glow suffused everything; the trees were a rich velvety green; the northeast sky was an hypnotic deep blue.