December 9, 2021 - I think the Raptors were in town but it could have been Milwaukee

There is a coffee shop on Mercer Street a few blocks south of Washington Square Park. I remember writing letters to you from there several years ago. Each one of the letters I kept to myself, though once I stopped by the post office on Eighth Avenue ––– the one across the street from Madison Square Garden. It was December and freezing. I remember how night fell and everywhere around me, left and right, people would walk by in Knicks jerseys and t-shirts that they’d keep in sight –––– blue and orange on display within the lines between their unzipped coats. I think the Raptors were in town but it could have been Milwaukee. I remember taking off my gloves so that I could pull the key from the front pocket of my bag, so that I could lock my bike around a green metal pole that held up a no parking sign. It took a little while to unlock the chain because of the cold and the rust, but eventually, I got it. After that I walked up the giant steps and went through the revolving doors. It felt good to be inside again, the warmth. There was no line at all so I didn’t have to wait. I just walked right up to the window, and bought a book of stamps.