It was one of those Manhattan mornings when the rain fell in silver sheets, soft and relentless, turning the avenues into shallow rivers and the sidewalks into mirrors of gray sky. High-rise buildings loomed like wet stone giants, their glass faces streaked and reflective, catching fragments of yellow cab lights and the blurred motion of umbrellas. The city smelled of wet asphalt, exhaust, and the faint, stubborn sweetness of someone’s coffee carried on the wind.
