The B61 waits when you run up the F train stairs: returning to your nook in the neighborhood at the edge of the map is easy some nights, and that’s how it gets you. The sommelier waxes on about romantic relationships and if we really need them, as he pours you more free champagne, and it seems you have built the best life for yourself without the rom com endings you were force fed in your youth.
It seems you have built a life around the city of New York, around the people who saw you through the worst of it and brought you out the other side, around the idea that if you could go to this city, live madly, and write, you would want for nothing.
It occurs to you that you want for nothing.
Fortune favors those who keep their eyes open to see it.
No comments:
Post a Comment