Heat

In the heat of the afternoon, a naked man walked down the street across from where I live. I couldn't believe I was seeing that. Right there on Fourteenth Street in New York City, a man with no clothes on was walking with a steady stride. I wouldn’t even walk barefoot on the streets of Manhattan with all the muck and bits of broken glass and whatnot. Where had he come from? What was his game? It was extremely hot outside, but still, walking naked in the street? I've never seen that before.
Nobody would go near him though many turned and stared. There was a wide circle of clearance.
I supposed a cop would come sooner or later to take him away and make him put something on. I turned to put a CD on the stereo to drown out the hum of the air conditioner. Suddenly, I heard a high pitched scream from outside and ran back to the window. The naked man was gone, but apparently someone had fallen from the building across the street. I couldn't see if it was a man or a woman because there was a crowd of about a dozen people gathered around the body, but I could see the victim was clothed.
There were still no police around; though a siren sounded close.
Some of the people were looking up at the building. The Fayva shoe store on the ground level was open for business, but the windows of the three stories above had been sealed for years.
I wondered where the naked man had got to and if he had been some sort of a prelude to this other person jumping or falling or having been pushed from the building. The heat makes people do strange things.