“The World Passing Him By”
Dec 16, 2019She hurries past, brown suede jacket barely keeping her warm, using her umbrella as a cane.
Mr. Cool Guy sits on a bench, leather jacket barely keeping his body warm, cigarette doing wonders for his soul.
The young couple walks by, her smiling and looking forward to showing off her new Victoria’s Secret lingerie, him wondering what excuse he’s going to give his wife this time.
The two dogs sniff the grass and look up at their owner, wondering who he has been talking to on the phone for the past twenty minutes, but more likely wondering what the cold white stuff is landing on their noses.
The older couple walk by, staring up at the buildings on the other side of Central Park South, him using an umbrella like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain, her using a cane to steady herself and avoid hurting the good foot.
The white dog runs through the brown and orange leaves, not worrying about stepping in the poop it just left in a pile.
The trees are all retired for winter. Their bodies and limbs are thin and frail. They are naked without their leaves. If they could they would uproot themselves and go inside one of those fancy hotels for some warmth and a hot cocoa. They might head over to Wollman and do a little skating. Their tall, gangly bodies look so graceful on the ice. Tourists point and take pictures, ignoring the horses for a moment. “Stupid trees,” the horses neigh at each other.
The two blonde girls stare at Jimmy writing in his notebook. They sit at the other end of the benches. He feels their eyes on him. He takes a quick glance and they are busy staring at their phones and sipping on overpriced Midtown lattes.
He’s had enough. His fingers are cold. He shivers. The snow tried falling, but it didn’t fall hard enough for his liking. He closes his notebook and stares out at the world passing him by. Everything is cold and moves in slow motion. His toes are freezing. Maybe a cab ride home. Or rather a walk the few blocks to thaw out.