Grey sky met grey concrete like a business meeting of androgynous folk in grey suits, and the trees were perfectly still like they had been caught in a photograph against their will and were now too demoralized to try to escape.
The atmosphere smelled like industry and efficiency, and people didn’t look up when they passed one another. If they had, of course, they would have seen themselves, or quite a close approximation. Nothing had changed and nothing was changing and nothing would change.
But then, quite suddenly, a single blade of grass poked up through a sidewalk, and