Early spring in Brooklyn can be quite the tease. One day it is gloriously sunny and 75; the sort of weather that practically begs you to play hooky. The next, clouds converge as if out of nowhere, and rain pours down, soaking you to the bone. Of course, the latter seems to be perfectly timed for the moment when you’ve finally let your guard down and left your umbrella at home. Or does this only happen to me?
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