“Just after midnight, I text my parents who live in Florida: Please tell me you didn’t help elect him.No reply.The next morning, New York City wakes up with a wet, gray yawn. The air is thick with mist. The city moves at a slower, muffled pace. New Yorkers rarely make eye contact; today isn’t much different, except when eyes meet, they lock for a moment in shared grief. Everyone’s shoulders bend forward, the world weighing heavier on them than it did yesterday.The sidewalks and the coffee shops are quiet. Even the subway paces through its underground veins in somber silence. My husband tells me: “The city hasn’t been this quiet since 9/11.”—Melissa Lirtsman”