Summer shoved her hands in her pockets, wandering through Central Park. She’d been up to her elbows all day in the aftermath of Sandy (stupid name for a hurricane, anyway; the ones down south were much more like it) and even in her apartment she felt like other peoples’ emotions were closing her in. At least outside, she could look up at the sky, searching for those few very bright stars, and taste winter in the air. When she looked back down, she happened to meet the eyes of a fine-looking fellow cuddling a bottle and looking more than a little tangled in his own troubles. She lifted a hand and waved, smiling, hoping maybe just a smiling face would give the guy a lift of spirits.