His face is pinched in a tight grimace as he reads from the book on his lap. With eyeglasses perched on the tip of his nose he appears to be peering over, not through, the lenses.
His crisp white shirt with oversize collar is in stark contrast to the well-worn, nubby argyle vest and rather battered windbreaker he wears. And the spot of brilliant pink on his head – a baseball cap emblazoned with new york city makes me wonder…
Where is he going?
When was he in New York?
What book is he reading that makes him look so mad?
I fix my gaze on his hands as he turns the page of his book, and he glances up at me as if aware that I’m looking at him.
And he smiles.
The most beautiful, delicious bright smile.
The crusty frozen man from new york city becomes a soft warm marshmallow.
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