Bogie now appears to be turning his head towards Gloria. Watching these slow weather patterns, day after day, I understand the quiet desperation of the TV meteorologist, daily cataloging incremental shifts in Fahrenheit, who when storms are finally forecast, blares the news in big red letters, then runs out into the flooding streets, shouting incomprehensibly, umbrella flapping, until he’s swept away by the wind, out of the frame.⠀