New York City, November 20, 2016

★★★★ A gust ripped a fresh batch of golden leaflets off a honeylocust tree and sent them up the avenue to join the older detritus already in motion. The older boy sprinted along with the wind boosting him, pressing against the quilted back of his coat. There had been either a snowflake or something that looked like snowflake on the air; little moving specks sailed just out of view all day. Afternoon was dark and serious. A clear streak appeared in the northwest late; one had been there in the morning, too, but it had stopped seeming relevant. Gorgeous pinks appeared where the separated but enduring dark clouds allowed them. The night wind buffeted the windows on one side and set air currents moaning outside the apartment door on the other. The moaning rose to a shriek, and through the night new groanings and tappings and thumps accompanied it.

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