You Are Here by Donald Breckenridge Read Free Book Online Page A

weird, and I wouldn’t want you to take it the wrong way, but you look a lot like a woman that I was once very close to,” and then eyed her mouth, “if you know what I mean.” “I think so,” she glanced at his left hand, “but, I was only out there once and that was years ago,” and missed the faint tan line on his ring finger. “You’re certainly not the sort of woman that should be approached on the street,” sincerity coated his tone, “but, it was the only way I could speak to you.” She playfully suggested, “you could have asked me for directions.” The sleeves of his light green designer shirt were rolled up past his elbows, “that hardly seems plausible,” and exposed his muscular forearms, “and it isn’t very original.” “It doesn’t happen to me all that often anymore,” she stated before suggesting “but you could have asked me for the time.” “You aren’t wearing a watch,” he conceded the obvious with a nod and extended his right hand, “I’m Alan.” She offered hers, “I’m Stephanie.” The firmness of his grip, “it’s a pleasure,” on the softness of her palm, “So how would I get to Central Park from here?” She wasn’t sure if he was serious, “hail a cab on the corner,” and quickly decided that he wasn’t. He looked over her shoulder, “Which one?” She laughed, “on Broadway I guess,” while letting go of his hand. He cleared his throat, “Can I take you to lunch?” “I don’t know,” she was daunted by his audacity, “and what sort of type,” yet admired his courage, “might I resemble the most?” The Puerto Rican reappeared wheeling four empty bottles along the sidewalk. “That’s a difficult question.” Two nearly identical blondes wearing mirrored sunglasses walked by. “How so?” He slowly rubbed his hands together, “based upon my initial impression,” as if to warm them, “and your exquisite taste in footwear,” before thoughtfully adding, “I’d have to say for now that it isn’t one type in particular but rather a composite.” Disco from the open windows of a passing car accompanied her question, “Do you have a shoe fetish Alan?” “I’m afraid that I do and you have beautiful legs, but, this is hardly the place to confess it.” “That’s okay,” she smiled, “most men have a fetish or two.” The truck pulled away from the curb. “But my lack of a real definition clearly warrants a closer inspection.” She raised her eyebrows, “Over lunch?” “Exactly… are you interested?” She transferred the shopping bag from her left to right hand, “Yes I am,” then added, “although I need to be getting back to the office in about… what time is it?” He looked at his watch again, “it’s a quarter past twelve.” She bit her lower lip, “in another forty-five minutes,” as they began walking toward the corner, “that doesn’t give us very much time.” “We can make it Stephanie,” his forearm brushed her hip, “it’s only a few blocks away.”
    It was a quarter till ten as Stephanie and Karen walked along the sidewalk by McCarren Park. “So this little old lady buys a vase at the thrift store and takes it home.” An orange half-moon was visible between the patches of clouds. “And when she dusts it off a genie appears.” The leaves on the broad plane trees lining Bedford Avenue rustled in the humid breeze. “The genie thanks her for freeing him from the vase and then grants her three wishes.” The crowds gathered around the well-lit baseball diamond were watching a night game. “She says that she wants to be rich.” The cracking sound of a wooden bat as it