New York City, February 8, 2016

★★ The snow blew in a little late, filled the air fine and thick for a while, and then blew out: an ordinary and ineffectual bit of winter. The younger boy could walk to basketball in his sneakers. There was nothing of the spectacle left but new puddles. A man dragged an umbrella, its metal tip scraping the sidewalk. The wind grew suddenly colder; bare hands that had been fine started to hurt. New flakes flew, but not many.