Of course, I knew that Maria would probably rather hang out here in my apartment with me - candles lit, red wine breathing - than venture out into the hectic city. Last weekend's rain and howling winds kept us in here quite a bit, though we did manage to venture out to introduce her to my local pizza, my local local, and the photo booth at Horseshoe Bar. We wrestled with the rain, tossed broken umbrellas in the trash, and stomped through puddles as we trudged around Manhattan's east side under a dark cover of clouds. We'll probably remember that better than any museum we would have visited.
Now I'm back here alone, with my birthday coming in two weeks and Halloween in six. Do I try to open my home back up? Or do I sink back into it, giving myself one small place in which to hide from all that ails me?
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