After Hours at Dooryard Books

“I always forget how quickly the town empties out in August,” Patrick says when a sunny Friday comes and goes with only a handful of customers.

Nathaniel could tell him that something similar happens in every city, with people decamping for long weekends at their second homes or those of their richer friends.

But New York in August is uniquely revolting.

When the city permanently smells like garbage and the sidewalks never cool down, when the subways are unbearable and the lights flicker from too many air conditioners running at once, anyone who can find an excuse to get out of this city grabs it and flees.