THE SUN HAD made it back. The light and the pavement were fresh and clean, though the cold virus that arrived during the past rainy days had claimed the last uninfected airway in the household. Out off the balcony, blue jays made their grating calls and mourning doves fluted. Raindrops still glittered in the V’s of the leaves in the crown of the dogwood. Fumes of charcoal starter hung on Central Park West. The sky was deep blue in the gaps between the gray-shaded clouds. Duckweed covered the Pool from shore to shore like a solid bed of green-painted concrete, a backdrop to the sloping lawn of grills and tables. Ducklings swam in a clear-surfaced pocket of the water, as older ducks squabbled and ran each other off. Carts with more grills and foil trays of food were rolling in. In the gathering dusk, open windows carried the bang of unauthorized fireworks and the roar of dirt bikes and ATVs revving and scattering around the corners. The quiet golden spark of a firefly flared against a blank wall. Red and white explosions bloomed where the dark buildings met the still-light sky.