New York City, October 11, 2016
★★★★ The early chill hadn’t kept a mosquito from darting around the living room. Maybe it was the same one that would die in a smear of blood on the medicine-cabinet mirror; maybe it was the one crushed bloodlessly in the shower. Light filled the green of the street trees from above and below. In the office, the cold air created the illusion that the outdoors must be uncomfortable too, but the sun out on the avenue was warm and so strong that the forms of things in the shade grew insubstantial. The black inner grillwork of south-facing cars was nearly as visible as the bright chrome and paint in front. A craving for baked goods took hold.