and those times you’re better off alone
An essay, published by fwriction: review, about being down and out in New York. Also, cognac and disqualifying yourself from relationships. Read the full story here or click below.
There I was, twenty-seven and already feeling old, walking the streets in the summer swelter. It was the season of denim skirts and Bloody Marys. Girls stood in a line on Eighty-sixth Street, waiting for the Hampton Jitney, dressed like it was Derby Day—sandals, sundresses, floppy hats. I had an ATM balance of $117.