We drive down the parkway in late afternoon, a golden light across the city you could not have made up in dreams. I drop them off two blocks away, because such is the beauty of neighbors as family, and park the car around the corner from us both. I pass it a day later, returning from the writing bar, which feels right even when the November wind blows. It's been a mild season so far, you wonder how long the gift may last. It gets dark so early, but it's still bright when it is. New York continues to be a gift, continues to remind you how you have everything you need right in the palm of your hand, even as it stretches out for more. He disappoints you with his humanity, when you are looking for salvation.
Tomorrow the day starts anew. Dust yourself off and get back up.
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