He tips his hat and wishes me a good afternoon. It's sunny out, and he's serene. It really is a good afternoon.
Fingerprints of sunlight on faded brick and joyful murals.
In the gap between brownstones, there's a fenced off dirt plot, studded with rocks. Two cats inhabit it. One sprawls on a bed of sunlight. The other watches me with menacing alertness.
Kids seize each other in headlocks outside the department store in front of the mannequins and pink placards, as they wait for their mom to finish shopping.
In their community, neighbors, friends, and coworkers will show up with trays of food in the days after childbirth.
She sleeps in a warm crescent against my stomach.
With classes cancelled for the day, the campus is silent. A building with a crenellated tower casts a shadow over the grounds.