The beautiful Miranda and I were sitting in a restaurant’s temporary shed in Manhattan, on a street that I will not name, one evening a couple of years into the coronavirus pandemic. The evening was cold. We were wearing layers of sweaters under heavy coats. We had arrived wearing surgical masks, but we had removed the masks when we were seated at our table. All the other diners had removed their masks as well. We had martinis in front of us, each straight up, with a twist of lemon.
Babbington Review 21
Babbington Review 21
Babbington Review 21
The beautiful Miranda and I were sitting in a restaurant’s temporary shed in Manhattan, on a street that I will not name, one evening a couple of years into the coronavirus pandemic. The evening was cold. We were wearing layers of sweaters under heavy coats. We had arrived wearing surgical masks, but we had removed the masks when we were seated at our table. All the other diners had removed their masks as well. We had martinis in front of us, each straight up, with a twist of lemon.