Their Metropolis

Pricey Diary:

I used to be standing on the platform on the Union Sq. station. My coronary heart skipped a beat after I noticed her throughout the tracks: my ex-girlfriend from school. We had damaged up bitterly a number of years earlier as a result of I wished to maneuver to New York Metropolis.

I shouted throughout the tracks to get her consideration.

“Who’re you?” she replied.

I shouted out my title, and she or he stared again at me quietly.

“What are you doing in my metropolis?” I requested.

“It’s my metropolis too!” she yelled.

Trains handed between us, and we by no means noticed one another once more.

— Michael Arcati

Strolling Throughout City

Pricey Diary:

I knew it was going to be a tricky week. To settle my nerves earlier than arriving at my desk, my ebook and my endless writing date with my dissertation, I made a decision to stroll throughout city from house after which as much as Columbia that Monday morning.

I left the condo feeling edgy and down within the mouth. I stared on the pavement as I walked. However as I had anticipated, the recent air and vibrant sunshine of that fall day helped reduce my burden. Earlier than lengthy, I had lifted my eyes.

I observed a doorman on the north aspect of East 96th Avenue up forward. It was fairly early, and he was hosing down the sidewalk in entrance of his constructing earlier than the residents began dashing off to work and faculty and different obligations.

When he noticed me approaching, he redirected the hose from the sidewalk to the road so I may cross with out getting moist, after which shut it off.

As soon as I had handed, he shortly turned it on once more full blast and arced the spray above the transferring visitors towards the sidewalk on the south aspect of the road. I joined him in watching the water because it rose and fell.

A doorman standing entrance of the constructing on the south aspect of the road jumped shortly as if to dodge the sudden downpour.

“Don’t fear,” my water-hurling Dennis the Menace mentioned. “We’re good associates.”

— Cindy Wiltshire

Off to Paris

Pricey Diary:

It was 1995, and I used to be about to go away the town to maneuver to Paris and get married. I cherished Paris, however I knew I’d miss New York terribly.

I made a decision to have one final espresso at a restaurant within the East Village. As I did, a really giant man who was carrying a poodle skirt and pink kitten heels and holding a small blue suitcase walked by.

I’m leaving this city, he mentioned petulantly.

Me too, I assumed sadly. Me too.

— Kimberly Butler

Getting Takeout

Pricey Diary:

One summer season night when you could possibly gratefully really feel the mercury descending the thermometer, I noticed a well-dressed man and girl, hand in hand, a half-block forward of me on my stroll round Greenwich Village.

There have been numerous reds and yellows within the sample of her lengthy, cotton skirt, and many black in his swimsuit and wide-brimmed hat.

As I used to be attempting to determine the place they had been headed — a nightclub, possibly, or some live performance I didn’t learn about — we came across a very fashionable and crowded Mexican takeout place.

A line of shoppers snaked down the sidewalk, and music blared from two giant audio system on both aspect of the storefront.

The well-dressed couple stopped strolling and confronted one another, nonetheless holding palms. They had been discussing one thing, most likely whether or not to get meals to go.

Simply then, they gave one another a candy, mushy kiss. He stood nonetheless, going through her. She stepped again, gave him a bit of curtsy and broke into a good looking dance. Then she took his hand, and he began dancing, too, simply as superbly.

I stood there admiring them. Everybody on line to order meals was admiring them as nicely. When the music paused, the couple paused too.

Everybody within the line began to clap. So did I. The couple gave a fast however ornate bow, kissed one another once more sweetly and joined the road to order meals. I continued on my stroll.

— Doug Sylver

Honey Don’t

Pricey Diary:

Leaving my Higher East Aspect faculty on a nice fall day, I noticed a lady peering intently at one thing in a close-by flower mattress.

“There’s a superbly good honeydew melon in there,” she mentioned.

She wished to retrieve it however was having hassle bending over to seize it.

I walked over, examined the thing intently and realized that it wasn’t a melon however a foam-rubber ball. I picked it up and defined to the lady that it was a ball, not a honeydew.

Somewhat than thanking me, she snatched the ball from me and mentioned she wanted to present it to her son’s faculty. Clutching her newfound treasure, she headed off towards Park Avenue.

— Ellen Stavitsky

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Illustrations by Agnes Lee