To the guy who helped me open an impossibly twisted pretzel on 6th Ave and laughed when I called it modern art—your kindness (and extra mustard) made my day. Wish I’d asked for your name instead of napkins.
We bumped hands reaching for the same copy of The Great Gatsby at Strand Bookstore. You smiled and told me, "Good taste," before vanishing behind the poetry section. Want to get coffee and debate classics?
You let me squeeze next to you during Friday night's downpour, sharing your tiny blue umbrella as we waited for the Q. I meant to thank you, but my stop came too quickly and you disappeared into the rain.
