New York City, June 22, 2016

★★★★ The sun was already hot on the preschool playground as the children trooped through. A man got off the elevator with his white shirt soaked through in the middle of the back. Dust or pollen floated in the sunbeams, and the parked cars were dusty or blotchy in the unsparing light. The brightness shone through the cracks in the lining of the banner outside the library, the red veiny pattern disclosing the fact that the lining existed at all. The wind gusted, to little or no effect on the temperature. Clouds passed quickly above the forecourt plaza, down in which the sun and wind alike could not quite reach. Within those limits, at that moment, there was nothing that could have been improved on. The four-year-old declared he was too hot and demanded to go upstairs.

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