Today was the first day of the year that I could run in shorts. I wasn’t the only one, either: it was fifty degrees out! Runners and bikers and walkers (and lots of dogs) were everywhere, having fun.
I tried not to appear stunned, but it was difficult: I had resigned myself to never feeling a warm breeze again. (Notwithstanding the logical certainty that we are in an era of increasing global temperatures; I recently saw a statistic saying that, world-wide, the temperatures in January were among the highest on record, which means that certain parts of the world were very hot indeed.)
In the distance, Manhattan was sliding into the rising sea.
In front of me, an architectural beam from Atlantis had washed up on the shore.
