On yet another miserably hot summer day, the simple joy of watching men unloading watermelons from a truck can make all the difference.
The heavy green globes sail through the air, one after another, tossed from man to man.
People stop to enjoy the urban spectacle of precision and grace, waiting for a melon to drop, to burst in an explosion of pink. But none fall.
The men are acrobats, somehow, on the corner of Second Avenue and Ninth Street. For a moment, they are magicians making watermelons fly.