Storm-Surfaced Thoughts

It’s funny how little New York changes in the midst of a major event. As I walked through the storm tonight, restaurants were open and full of calm diners, golden dining room light spilling out onto rain-darkened concrete through windowpanes and open doors.

True, the sidewalks were emptier than usual. The few pedestrians there were either made their way to the nearest subway (as I did), or stood tucked within the alcove of an unused doorway or underneath an overhang.

Tonight, New Yorkers were content to pause and look up at the alien sky, twitching with electricity and rolling grey clouds or, equally mesmerizing given the night, the sudden pockets of calm when stray raindrops would fall gently, innocently, as if to deny the sky’s previous bout of rage.

Despite all that, however, very little changed. The streets were full of blinking lights and rushing cars which seemed to rush even more because of the sound they made as their tires sliced through sheets of water on the road.

I could hear laughter and the satisfying clink of good, heavy silverware against plates of food, fading up as I neared each restaurant, crescendoing in a warm, loud rush, and then fading away again. Much like, now that I think about it, the patterns of the storm itself.

Good night. Be safe. Be snuggly.

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