Driving in power storms isn't much fun. I know what hydroplaning feels like, so I never drive fast in the rain. I never really drive fast at all, but other people fray both ends of the driving speed spectrum in a rainstorm. Petey drives his F-100 at 70 in the left lane because he can. Betty pulls over under an overpass in a three-drop drizzle fest. Everyone has their own shit going on.

I can feel it coming today, but the trees show no signs of the impending color changes. They are yet to paint themselves into portraits for the ages, with yellow and orange hues covering the background like a tapestry of acceptance. Everything looks better in autumn; even me. I open my bedroom window a crack to get a microgust of the future.

My memories of growing up in Brooklyn Heights usually look like Fall in my head. Brown, yellow, and orange hues, before the yellow moved to the snow on the sidewalks, thanks to all of our dogs, for the entire winter. The apartment buildings were the backdrop to nature’s attempt to integrate with the city.