In the skies above Pittsburgh, a fine rain had been falling since dawn, showing no signs of stopping.
The rain wasn't heavy. It was just a dense, dreary cold that seeped into every crack and crevice of the city.
It was primary election day.
There were no blaring gongs and drums, no rousing marches, and no colorful balloons rising into the sky.
Not a single campaign vehicle could be seen on the streets, broadcasting last-minute appeals for votes.
The entire city was unnaturally quiet.
Carnegie Avenue was still gridlocked with morning rush-hour traffic. A long dragon of red taillights blurred into a hazy halo in the rainy mist.
Workers still carried their metal lunchboxes, expressionlessly flooding toward the factory time clocks.
The glass panes of the coffee shops were fogged with condensation. Inside, the queued crowd stared down at their phones, waiting for the cup of hot coffee that would get them through the morning.
