The streets are utterly empty except for the plows and the occasional rogue taxi. The city is a swirling gray swarm of snow, the Hudson River has disappeared, and I am still awake.
I want to sneak outside and go for a walk in the empty streets, but everyone working in the lobby knows me, and I don’t want to be seen. I can’t be anonymous except right here in this room with the do not disturb sign on the door and the curtains flung wide open and all the lights turned off, 36 floors up above the street.
Listen: it’s quiet, but not completely. I turned the heat up to 74. I flopped onto the bed backwards like they do in the movies. I ate chocolate in the bathtub. Listen: it’s the sound of me pressing my palm to the cold glass, looking down on the sidewalks, surveying my kingdom.
Look at this silly, lucky life I never imagined. Look at the Freedom Tower, half-submerged in darkness, fingertips away. Someone once told me the city would eat me alive. They were wrong. I’m devouring it.
(More here at Caroline’s Tumblr.)