I wander through the streets alone—not the relaxing stroll of a summer night, but the tense hurry to get—where?
Down alleyways, looking into doorways, peering into half-shuttered windows, wanting someone to talk to and yet afraid to meet anyone.
Up one street, and down another, through the endless labyrinth, hurling myself against the neon cage of the city.
Searching... for what? I met a woman in Central Park.
She was sitting on a bench near the lake, with a coat clutched around her despite the heat.
She smiled and motioned for me to sit beside her. We looked at the bright skyline on Central Park South,
the honeycomb of lighted cells against the blackness, and I wished I could absorb them all.
Yes, I told her, I was from New York. No, I had never been to Newport News, Virginia.
That's where she was from, and where she had married this sailor who was at sea now, and she hadn't seen him in two and a half years.
She twisted and knotted a handkerchief, using it from time to time to wipe the beaded sweat from her forehead.
Even in the dim light reflected from the lake, I could see that she wore a great deal of make-up,
but she looked attractive with her straight dark hair loose to her shoulders—
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