I traipsed through Midtown yesterday, on a mission to complete some dreary chores. Sweat poured off my scalp in rivulets that ran down my forehead and into my eyes.

A few fat drops of rain fell before I got on the 42nd Street crosstown bus, just enough for everyone to catch one on the flesh. It was one of those hybrid buses with the elevated platform in the back; the front was crowded but a man sat alone in the middle of the back row, legs apart, regal. I made myself small and sat in a window seat beside him.