New York City, August 7, 2017

★ The forecast was grim and accurate: dim and wet. The bodies moving around the apartment mooted the fact that the thermometer readings were lower than before. Hair redistributed its burden of moisture rather than drying out. There was no good way to choose between trying to ignore the thin but insistent rain and putting on the waterproof jacket in the stifling air. Walking felt slow and futile; the rain got heavier and going back outside for lunch seemed pointless. Water beaded on tomatoes at the Greenmarket. It was hot and swampy on the train platforms and cold and raw inside the trains.