...And there she was, encamped in the front reading room, chatting and smoking. My heart did a little dance. My eyes blinked from surprise and relief, to see her again. She seemed spot-lit and radiant as I slow-walked past her, urging myself to stop, but not stopping.
I was taught early on that there is no theater like NYC theater. And also that there is no glitz like NYC glitz, no corned beef like NYC corned beef (or bagels, or pickles, or rye bread), and no swagger and sass like they can do in NYC. I have always been a rube in Gotham.