New York City, October 15, 2015

★★★★ Blue from the sky reflected in the pan of the stovetop like the light of a gas flame accidentally left on. The man sleeping on a bench in the forecourt had a tan blanket pulled over him, nearly as tidy as bedclothes. The sun was so bright it was almost possible to walk into the crossbar of a scaffold, lost in the shadow line. Here was the new season. It seemed safe at last to wash the stale old jeans and the brand-new ones and hang them up to dry. The air was chilly through the windows but fresh enough to put up with.