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Busking

Dear Diary:

It was 2004, and I was a dance student at Juilliard. Shopping in a clothing store on West 72nd Street one afternoon, I made eye contact with a handsome young clerk. He slipped a paper receipt into my hand as I left.

“There is something wonderful about you,” it said. He had also written his name and number.

I learned that he was a singer-songwriter. We met at Union Square Park the following Saturday. There was a jazz quartet busking there. The drummer was someone I knew, and I said hello as I passed by.

My date and I hailed a cab to Central Park. Near Bethesda Fountain, he accidentally smashed the bottle of wine he was opening for us to share. We hugged when we parted.

A couple of days later, I ran into him in the tunnel that connects the Sixth Avenue L stop to the IRT lines.