New York City, April 11, 2016

★ The breeze in the colorless morning was not sharp anymore, but it was damp and unrelenting. The hydrangeas in the raised bed were crumpled to soft, rotten brown, and the mums looked trampled. The daylight grew more golden; the number on the weather app was 69. People were holding their phone conversations outdoors. The sky looked clear but the light was still thinned a little, somehow. Then it was thinned a lot, once more, and cold drops were falling out of a still mostly clear-looking sky. A quick subway ride cleared away the contradictions: It was as chilly and cloudy and raining as if the afternoon interlude had never happened.