New York City, July 6, 2017

★★★ The radar on the weather app made it look as if the gray outside was raining, which seemed like more meaning and purpose than its blandness could live up to. The pavement was wet, or sort of wet, and there was something between the sky and the ground, but it was all too weak to think of as rain. A glimpse of cloud-dimmed sun flashed by in a puddle. The smell of wet paint hung in the mouth of the subway stairs. By afternoon the halfhearted showers had given up and the day was turning back into the usual. Enough cloud stuck around to form strange shreds and brilliant monochrome patterns on the way toward sunset.