I accidentally bumped your elbow and sent your cold brew splattering onto the floor. You smiled and said, “Good thing I like it on the rocks.” Would love to make it up to you (and buy your next coffee stain-free).
You were reading a tattered copy of "The Bell Jar" and laughing to yourself between 2nd Ave and Jay St. I wanted to ask about your favorite poem, but the train was too packed. If you remember the guy with the rainbow tote bag squeezing past you, let’s grab coffee.
You sang along (off-key) to “New York, New York” while waiting for your everything bagel at Ess-a-Bagel on 3rd Avenue. I was the guy in the Mets cap who joined in on the chorus. Wish I’d asked for your number with my schmear.
You offered me shelter under your bright blue umbrella during the downpour at 57th Street. We laughed about the subway delays and exchanged smiles, but I never got your name before you transferred at Times Square. If you see this, coffee on me next time it rains?
You were reading a tattered copy of "The Bell Jar" and laughing to yourself between 2nd Ave and Jay St. I wanted to ask about your favorite poem, but the train was too packed. If you remember the guy with the rainbow tote bag squeezing past you, let’s grab coffee.
You offered me shelter under your bright blue umbrella during the downpour at 57th Street. We laughed about the subway delays and exchanged smiles, but I never got your name before you transferred at Times Square. If you see this, coffee on me next time it rains?
You offered me shelter under your bright blue umbrella during the downpour at 57th Street. We laughed about the subway delays and exchanged smiles, but I never got your name before you transferred at Times Square. If you see this, coffee on me next time it rains?
You offered me shelter under your bright blue umbrella during the downpour at 57th Street. We laughed about the subway delays and exchanged smiles, but I never got your name before you transferred at Times Square. If you see this, coffee on me next time it rains?
We exchanged shy smiles near the Van Gogh paintings and kept crossing paths through the galleries. I wanted to ask about your favorite artist, but lost my nerve—and then you disappeared into the Egyptian wing.
I spilled my latte all over your sketchbook at the cafe on Bedford. You laughed and said it was “abstract art,” but I’d love to buy you a new notebook (and maybe another coffee).
You were reading “Norwegian Wood” with a yellow umbrella at your feet. Our eyes met when the train stopped over the Manhattan Bridge—I wish I’d said something, but my stop came too soon.
