A Morning at 102.0

Lin grabbed his keys. At the door he stopped and turned back. The air-conditioning unit in the hall hummed with a strained, failing sound, like something trying not to break in front of witnesses. He remembered the news anchor from last night saying this was a “short-term extreme event.” He remembered the administration briefing where someone suggested calling it a “temporary discomfort.” Everyone had words for what was happening, all of them softer than the truth. Like trying to block a pipe burst with a paper napkin. At the door he looked at Sofia once more. “Don’t go out today.” “You shouldn’t either,” she said. For once, he didn’t argue.