★★★ Sun emerged, or part-emerged, and dried out the dampened gray morning. The shade was bearable, but the open areas were distressing. It was hard to guess who among the pedestrians had been out exercising and who was just walking around in exercise wear, glazed with sweat. Scrawny ears of corn were packed in ice outside the supermarket. The sun slipped all the way around the thin remaining clouds and struck full in the face like an insult. The clouds recovered; the sky darkened. Then it brightened again, and as it brightened the rain started falling, fine and dense, with pale floating bits in it like snowflakes. Shadows sharpened and reflective surfaces gleamed, while the rain still fell. If there was a rainbow, it stayed out of sight behind the buildings on Broadway as the shower finally subsided to splatting drips. Again the clouds came back, again the sun returned, just in time to play havoc with the contrast on a video call. Then the clouds once more, the sunset few patches of bleached pink. Something black — a bat? — flittered back and forth across the dimming sky outside the window. The night air was thick and unliberating. People arrayed themselves on the sidewalk to eat their sour treats from the chain frozen-yogurt shop. Lightning pulsed in the distance. At bedtime, the storm hit with a smashing sound of rain, louder than the air conditioner, followed by lightning too bright for the blinds. The wind drew sounds from outside and inside the building at once, like breaths on a monstrous low-pitched harmonica.