Full moon rising over the East River, a day of swelter in the books. June still brings a breath in the evenings, you enjoy every last moment of it. Driving back from the upstate was nothing short of restorative, all rolling green hills and early summer blooms. A parking spot appeared around the corner, New York whispers its welcomes in riddles, I found two four-leaf-clovers in the upstate without even looking.
I'm not trying to interpret it.
Later, at the Monday bar on a Tuesday, delve through layers that resent unfolding, wonder at the steps you've taken to get there. You look happy, he says. You realize you've started smiling again.
They say the electricity bills will be high this summer.
You sleep with the window open.
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