I'ts always Sunny in New York

I'ts always Sunny in New York

It’s raining, so they picnic in the bedroom instead of the garden. French fries and red wine. 

“In New York, it was warm and sunny every day”, she said. She’d just gone back for a wedding and never stopped crying. The taxis. Central Park. The smell of the sidewalk after it rained. Pizza. Everything made her cry.

He filled their glasses. “Maybe we should move back there”.

“We can’t”. They’d both just started new low-paying jobs.

She thought of the tulips on Park Avenue. Barneys. The boat basin off Riverside Park where she’d learned to ride a bicycle. Hot dog vendors. White Horse Tavern.  Z100. Metro Cards. “Although we are married now”, he said. At 28, they were the first of their friends to do it. “And we can’t live like this much longer”. They shared a house with his friends from college. More and more they stayed in their bedroom. They even had a coffeemaker up there.

He put down his glass. “Should we move to New York?”

The possibility dangled between them, like the moment when they’d decided to get married. They couldn’t stop smiling: now they were kissing. She shivered.

They were moving to New York.