“A thin yellow curtain hung in front of the corner window as boney tree limbs tapped on the glass like an unwelcome visitor. Despite the tiny buds on the trees outside, the branch at this particular window was still bare.”

“Tree limbs boasted fresh baby buds and smiled at the brush strokes spread across the sky.”

“Parker stared at the bare branches along Saint Marks Place as they swayed with the wind, reaching for one another, and longed for the warmth of a million little leaves and their multicolored smiles.”

“Even with the windows up she could smell the thick, spiky aroma of cut grass and the distant hum of a lawnmower somewhere down the street. It was a sad hum, though, like the buzzing of a bee that had lost the desire to make honey.”

“The streets were awash with blues and grays – suspended in the air, bouncing off buildings, reflecting off car windows – as Brooklyn neared nighttime.”

“She looked out the window at the soggy sidewalks on Saint Marks Place, as a late snowfall began to melt in the face of a much warmer early spring day.”

“By midday, temperatures had not reached their typical highs for late spring, and passersby seemed to struggle with the desire to dress for summer despite the chill in the air.”