New York State of Mind | zm au

Frozen

I'm hopelessly and utterly lost. I was walking home from the department store on forth avenue, and somehow I mixed my streets up and I passed Central Park. I don't know how that even happened.

I stop for a second and sit down. The wooden bench curves under my weight and an uneasy feeling sits in my stomach. I gaze around the end of the park, where I'm sat now, and analyze the familiar parts.

Ice-crusted street lights add a festive spark to the already-beautiful park. The massive clock strikes eight o'clock at night and dings appropriately. I sigh, and notice a puff of fog glide past my lips. I tug my knitted scarf tighter around my neck, finding the bite of the wind unpleasant.

My toes are frozen and I don't know which direction to go to get back to my building. I haven't got anyone to call. I'm frozen. And stuck.

I stand up slowly, realizing the park is nearly empty, aside from the ice-skating arena farther down this pathway.

"Hey! Apartment 78B girl." The smooth voice I recognize instantly. I turn around. His hair is swept back in a beanie and his nose is pink from the cold.

"Apartment 77A guy." I breathily say, smiling.

"You know, it's cold." He states, eyes widening as if he just delivered the speech of the century.

I rub my nose, sniffing, "I gathered that."

He smiles, chocolate eyes shining in the light cast from the streetlights.

"Pretty huh?" He looks around Central Park. I do the same, his mirror.

"The lights come on at 8:30pm." He says, an for the first time, I notice the strings of lights in the wide branches of every tree. I notice the snow landing on various decorations.

"Is that so?" I ask, still turned away from him, taking in the beauty that is yet to come.

"It is." He shifts his boots around in the snow gathered on the path. I follow his foot trace patterns in the snow until an awkward silence sits around us.

"Hot chocolate?" He asks, pointing his gloved hand towards a small hut with steam pouring out the top like water boiling over a pot. I nod.

We walk in silence, I, one foot or so behind his gentle stride. He walks so smoothly, like he's had plenty of time to practice moving without a sound. His boots makes tiny crinkling noises when they connect with the snow covering the pavement.

I readjust my knit cap as we walk, pushing my hair back into my hood to control it's knotted tendrils. Apartment 77A guy glances over his shoulder, probably to make sure I haven't run off, or gotten lost.

He stands up to the window at the hot chocolate booth.

"Two large hot chocolates, please." His deep and powerful voice still amazes me. The sound that radiates from his throat is not one I would expect. The slight accent tells me he's lived elsewhere, but I don't dare ask. Not yet, anyway.

"You don't have to pay for mine." I tell him when he pushes a twenty-dollar bill over the counter.

"Usually, to impress girls, I buy them hot chocolate." He whispers.

I look at him wide-eyed, "So that's your secret."

He chuckles and receives his change.

"Will you still talk to me, even though I've told you my greatest secret?" He asks.

I'm about to answer, but the clock dings to show it is eight thirty. I watch in utter amazement as one by one, the tree light up. The paths through the park are outlined in silver and the trees shimmer with pure white. I can see the snow much clearly now, each flake outlined by magnificent light.

It looks magical. I sip my hot chocolate while the last of the decorations illuminate. The delicate wrappings of strings of lights around the base of each tree must've taken hours to complete.

But it was worth it.

I respond, "I wouldn't have anyone else to talk to if it wasn't you."

4/10