Post office, Grand Central. Three packages to the Island. I considered sushi for lunch, the Eastern European postal worker's curt words and aggressively applied blue eye shadow. She seemed unimpressed with my parcel post and media mail requests.
Relieved to have off-loaded the extra weight, I picked up a roll and skim cappuccino. I took in the New York magazine building ahead, slightly disappointed that the 'W' needed a few bulbs. The clouds were rapidly moving. I heard there might be rain, quite a bit actually. Having taken the gamble, I was wearing my velvet Coach flats. I turned to see low sinking clouds wrapping around the buildings on 40th, 41st...
"It's coming," Vadim claimed.
"Sooner than not," I confirmed.
I skipped to the next block. Drop, Drop, pour, pour, slam.
I knew I shouldn't have been lazy this morning. I should have changed out of my dark bra- when I decided to go with the light pink and white blouse on second thought. Nice little ice breaker at the hedge fund.
No comments:
Post a Comment