Guggenheim. I walked by it and recalled a debate we had of whether it was on the Upper East Side or Upper West Side. We placed a bet then took a walk. He was right. I hated it when he was right.
Whitney. I leaned against a pillar and stared at an exhibit that once displayed a string of luminescent red balls. We were loftily suggesting significances. I don't recall the title nor the meaning of those red balls except that it was the start of 'balls.'
The Bread Bakery. It was about 15 degrees that day. First time seeing each other in daylight. Still hadn't revealed what was under the beenie.
Barnes and Nobles cafe. We read his and hers books on sex tips. We had only kissed at that point. It was so awkward. It was so good.
Brooklyn Bridge. "Are we there yet?" I ask. "No, we're not," he answers. Hmmm. I'd like to go back and sit on a bench at Brooklyn Heights Promenade to view the Manhattan Skyline. Sometimes it's hard to appreciate the beauty of Manhattan while you're in it, you have to step out of it to see it.
Central Park. Bench. He guesses, "It's because I didn't let you in parts of my life, right?" He was right. I hate it when he's right.