JERRY

New York hits me the second I step out of the cab. First with the noise of busy people going about their business, then the smell of cold breeze, dust, and luxury, then cold air cutting through my jacket. Horns scream, and people move like they have somewhere to be even if most of them don’t.

The city doesn’t care who you are or what you’ve survived. It just keeps going. I respect that.

Mabel, my love waits near the entrance of her building, phone in hand, coat half buttoned ...