January second, two thousand and seventeen.

I walked around frigid China town by myself, peering into the round, ornate windows at old men reading their papers and eating steaming soup out of little porcelain bowls; I walked into the pizza place for Patrick’s birthday, we all chatted and laughed and fell into the safe conversational groove of old friends talking.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s