New York City, January 5, 2016

★★★ The heater had baked a dry patch at the back of the throat overnight. Wisps of steam flared short distances from the building tops. Here and there someone had salted an icy patch on the sidewalk; spilled liquid had frozen in rivulets where it ran. The cup of coffee from the luxe bakery slipped out the sides and top of the lid and dribbled down the new glove. There had been none of the glossy brand-colored plastic lid plugs on the counter by the milk. Finally it was necessary to stoop by the curb and pour a steaming jet of coffee out into the gutter to get the sloshing under control. A man in a knit Philadelphia Eagles hat walked up the avenue with a woman in a knit New York Giants hat. The thermometer indoors on the office windowsill said it was 64 degrees indoors. The deep afternoon cold did not prevent a note of marijuana smoke from floating on the open air in Union Square. “I smell kush, man!” one young man declared to another. “I smell kush, too!” the other replied. The trains were stuffed, hot, and dysfunctional. The express train arrived on the local track and went 30 blocks nonstop from there. On the walk back from the express stop, a foot slipped on a narrow slick of black ice in the roadway.