Business

‘In the end, I parted and bought a 20-piece sorting pack’


Dear Diary:

I’ve been looking for a week to buy a pocket comb to replace one I’ve lost. No one seems to be selling them. I have tried several Duane Reade and CVS stores. Maybe it’s a supply chain problem.

In the end, I got frustrated and bought a pack of 20 combs from a drugstore chain on John Street. It has multicolored combs of all widths, shapes and sizes. Some have handles and pointed ends. There are even a few pocket sized ones.

“This is great,” the cashier said when he called me. “You lose your comb all the time.”

I told him I just wanted to buy a comb but no one was selling singles.

“I need a comb,” he said. “Can I buy one of these for a dollar?”

I happily opened the package.

“Which one do you choose,” he said.

I handed him a large one with a handle and two widely separated teeth. I refused the dollar bill he tried to give me.

“This is perfect,” he said.

I suddenly realized as I left the shop that he had cut his hair very closely.

– Ed Fitzelle


Dear Diary:

I didn’t breathe
in years

but one
dark

pick
A wind
Ropes
mine has veins
throat

an old man-
dolin

and a tune
switch over
I

– Rolli Anderson


Dear Diary:

I was waiting for a taxi to take me from the urgent care clinic near Lincoln Square to the nearby emergency room. I fell the night before leaving the cinema, hitting my knees and face on the sidewalk.

After a long wait, I spotted a lone taxi stopped at a red light. The driver indicated that he would pick me up as soon as the lights changed.

Then, in an apparent violation of taxi etiquette, a man who may have been 20 years younger than me jumped down the street in front of me. He saw me and must have noticed I was waiting for a taxi. Apparently he didn’t care because when the light turned green, he brazenly jumped in.

I was angry. Then the unthinkable happened.

The taxi approached me, the taxi thief opened the door, asked me where I was going, invited me in, waited while I hobbled in and told the driver where to take me, a few streets away from this person.

He told me he was late for his doctor’s appointment and asked how I was injured.

I said I fell after leaving the cinema. He asked me if I worked in the theater and said that his wife did.

When we got to the emergency room, he didn’t accept the ride and just asked one thing in return: He wanted me to tell his wife what I told him: that he was the best person to ever steal. taxi from me.

“Sometimes she needs proof that I’m nice,” he said.

I don’t know his name or his wife, but hopefully she will read this.

– Gwen Marcus


It was the early 1990s, and my husband had just published his first novel. His editor insists we stay with him and his partner in their spacious Upper West Side apartment. It is located between Zabar’s and Central Park and has a clear view of the Empire State.

As first-time visitors, we try to pitch wherever we can, including walking their giant, white-haired dog, Ripley.

Ripley, it turns out, is known to the whole neighborhood. Everyone wants to pet her, and she loves attention of any kind.

On one of our outings, we crossed the street with a well-dressed woman speeding toward the subway in sloping heels.

“What kind is this?” I heard her ask.

“She’s a Samoyed!” I am proud to answer. The confused woman repeated her question.

“A Sa-MOY-ed,” I said, exaggerating.

Waving my hand, she dashed off on her heels.

When I turned to my husband, he doubled his laughter.

“She was asking, ‘What time right? ‘” he said as he regained his composure.

– Jeffrey P. Smith


Dear Diary:

On a hot summer morning, I squeeze next to a woman on train B, open a book and type in my headphones. The book needs attention.

I could hear my seatmate singing. Normally this would annoy me, but I soon realized the woman had a beautiful voice. I resisted the urge to react and continued reading instead.

When we reached the stop, I stood up and turned to look at her. She laughed.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Yes,” I replied. Honestly, I was expecting her to compliment me on how I dress, the dress I usually wear.

“What’s the name of your book?”

I was surprised.

“The anomaly,” I said. “It’s really good.”

“I know,” she said, “I read a page over your shoulder.”

– Vanessa Spray

Read all recent items and ours submission rules. Contact us by email [email protected] or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter.

Illustration by Agnes Lee






Source link

news7g

News7g: Update the world's latest breaking news online of the day, breaking news, politics, society today, international mainstream news .Updated news 24/7: Entertainment, Sports...at the World everyday world. Hot news, images, video clips that are updated quickly and reliably

Related Articles

Back to top button