★ Droplets were falling from somewhere, under the bright and scattered morning sun. Maybe from the construction work at the top of the still-growing tower. The clouds thickened from a filter to an obstruction; the day grew visibly grayer and palpably colder, a fact too bleak to even accept. Here was a March reversal without the least bit of drama or flair, just a steady decline. By midday a preemptive dampness lay over everything, a preview of the drenching that couldn’t not be on its way. At the work day’s end, the soaking rain had arrived, in drops fine enough to allow one last attempt at delusion–despite the water beading on the railing outside the window–before the slender vertical traces confirmed what had been obvious all along.