Description
It happened all the time. I would be walkiin to Starbucks on the silent sidewalks of Lexington to appease my addiction to all things New York with a purchase of the New York Times when a garbage man or young attractive office worker or a guy who looked like he could use a long shower would look at me and happiil declare, “Good morning.” Whoa, whoa, whatdoeshewant was my initial reaction. My head swivelle like that kid in The Exorcist to make sure I wasn’t being set up. It took a few seconds to...

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