Summer Night

Dear Diary:

It wasn’t until the bus reached 34th Street that my husband realized he had left a large bed pillow he had just bought on a table at Tucker Square on Broadway and 65th Street.

When we got home, he debated whether to simply accept that the pillow was gone or to go back uptown on the slim chance that it might still be there.

It was an otherwise perfect summer night, and I said I would accompany him back uptown. And when we left the subway, there it was, seemingly untouched, right on the table where he had left it.

Buoyed by our good fortune, we decided not to go straight home. We took a walk in Central Park and then had supper.