★★★ The day arrived so gray that being rained on seemed inevitable. No sooner had that resignation set in, though, than the sun came, for just long enough to be encouraging. Stepping out into humidity was like walking into a wall, but when the breeze came, it was cool. From the Midtown luxury terrace outside the birthday party, the sky had settled into a noncommittal and featureless gray. The two-year-old never even tried to venture outdoors into it. By the afternoon, sun returned, and the clouds took on individual shapes, though a brothy haze lingered for a while in the spaces between them. It was hot on the avenue in the reconstituted sunlight. Cars draped with keffiyehs and protest photos were separated from one another by a stoplight and surrounded by apolitical traffic. The two-year-old rode on shoulders, bound for the playground, brandishing the blue balloon scimitar he’d acquired from the party clown. The humidity had ebbed; the space between clouds had been clarified. Light rebounded off the white-brick condo tower and sparkled in tears, once the blue blade had been stepped on and popped.