[No stars] Not enough morning light to wake anyone. Outside was wet, but not particularly raw at first, with a heavy brown quality to the light: like sheltering inside a rain-soaked paper bag. Then even that mixed and minor blessing shredded away, in favor of a thick, hard-blown drizzle. At the bread counter, a sudden, arresting vision came of lugging a baguette, tilting and lurching, back down soggy Broadway. So a pane francese fit snugly and compactly at the bottom of the plastic sack, as the water beaded and ran down the outside. The kindergartener, hood up, turned himself away from the wind and walked backward. After an explanation of the importance of moving faster, to spend less time in it, he settled for trailing behind a grownup, in the moving lee.