Monday, April 1, 2019

Park Slope Is Closed

3:15 in the morning, I drop off the truck in the desolate U-Haul lot and begin my journey home. A cold wind blows down empty, foreboding streets, perfect for a mugging, and I pull up my hood, put on my mean face, and walk like I have someplace to be, which I do.

By the time I’m almost home, walking down President Street, I start to think my earlier suspicions were silly, as not only have I not seen another soul, but not even a car has passed me in almost 15 minutes.

Then I come around the corner to my house, and there’s the garbage truck, with three dudes picking up the trash, and I know I was being silly.

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