HOT POINTS OF yellow daylight flared through the cord holes in the blinds. There was no waiting before turning on the air conditioner. Outside, hard sun immediately triggered a sneeze that ruined a nearly new surgical mask. The update sign said the train was 14 minutes away, so it was time to walk instead, sticking to the shady side of Broadway, no matter what the crossing signals said. Clouds of urine smell came from nowhere identifiable. Sunbathers reclaimed the roof deck that had been off limits for more than a year—some fleetingly in the heat, some persisting. At day’s end a wash of pink flowed up behind lilac cumulus. The river was silver, and the electric lights wavered and twinkled coming up in the distant New Jersey dusk.