MORNING DRIPPED AND splashed under gray skies. At lunchtime the daylight brightened, and the mild air through the window began to stir with breezes and to carry the burble of birdsong, along with a whiff of damp ground and a stronger whiff of weed smoke. In the humid afternoon, stepping outside felt no different than staying indoors. People walked with coats over their arms or tied around their waists. The subway steps were greasy underfoot with lingering moisture. Trails of cologne or perfume marked out people’s paths for yards and yards after they’d passed by. The pedestrians drifted aimlessly, out of practice in crowds. In the theater, the air conditioning came on and eventually made itself too strong. Luminous shreds of pink cloud, framed by the mouth of the subway, shone so brightly they overwhelmed the crescent moon. The brilliance faded in the span of a crosstown block; another block, and the clouds were nearly invisible, save as a faint blur over the moon’s edges.