New York City, September 9, 2015

[No stars] Why, the three-year-old wanted to know, were the lights outside still on? The gloomy gathered clouds were doing the most they could, but didn’t have the numbers to sustain it, now and then letting through a little thinnish light. Regardless of the dimness, though, it was already hot on the long new walk to the pre-K, and the walk cutting back to Columbus Circle. The sun had found its way out, and the climate control on the subway train failed to take off the resulting layer of sweat. Water cascaded from air conditioners to the sidewalks, the overladen air dropping its burden at the first opportunity. A localized darkness covered Fifth Avenue in the afternoon. A few raindrops appeared on lumber on top of a scaffold; an umbrella went up. Nothing conclusive happened. The air conditioning at home was shut off, in advance of the announced mosquito spraying. Just past lights out, a rubbery smell seeped into the stuffy bedroom, where the covers had been kicked away. It strengthened for a while, and then either faded out or became olfactory background. Later, dreams under a tangled sheet were interrupted by wet-tire sounds from the avenue, the presumed pesticide treatment presumably being washed off by the rain.