October 16, 2015

New York, New York

New York, Fiction, Short Story, Blog, Blogger, Amwriting, Amreading, Life, Money, Lesson, Rich, Poor, Central Park, Penn Station, Times Square, Love, City, Greatest
www.prateek-mathur.com
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and exhaled till he felt his lungs devoid of any air. He did this three times. He then opened his eyes and stared blankly for a moment only to shut them again. This time, however, he did it so slow that he felt his upper eyelid gently caressing his lower eyelid and the eyelashes resting on them. In his mind he had finally perfected a real life slow motion that this moment deserved. 

He felt calmer and a beaming smile adorned his face. Upon reopening, his eyes were ready for a mesmerizing view.

That view. Oh, that view.

The sight from his penthouse on the 57th floor was exquisite. It trumped the lavish indoors that had a private elevator, French doors, antique furniture, and  oversized, sun flooded rooms. But this was all about the view. That the view was of Central Park made it even better. The fact that he owned  a $5,000,000 house in one of the most beautiful, stately and cultured neighborhood in the world capital of these virtues, made him feel like a King.

The Park was bustling with people, as usual. Those people seemed even "tinnier" from up here. He was one of them for a long time. Not anymore.

Not anymore.

This time he looked up in the sky and burst into laughter. Loud, cacophonous laughter.

Lost in his world, he knew he had made it.

Every victory, mattered in this city.

This  city. The greatest city on Earth. New York, New York.

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He stood there as if he was about to run. With his back arched, right forearm and leg outstretched, he seemed to be just waiting to hear the gun shot to run for his life. But he remained still. Motionless. Even when people went past him, hitting and shoving him, his eyes remained intensely fixed on it. It was the stare match of its own kind and none of them were giving up.

It growled. He growled back. It bluffed a jump. He bluffed a run. None batted an eyelid.

He waited, waited and, waited patiently, some more. The moment the sun came in the right spot, he started to move frantically in the same spot. Incoherence was his greatest virtue. His scruffy hair jumping up and down his forehead, his dirty knees, peeping out of his torn jeans and his bare feet thumping the footpath.

He scared it away, rather, his shadow on the sidewall did. He always knew his shadow is worth more than his being in this city.

He jumped and snatched the sandwich from the rim of the trash can scaring the cat away.

This time he looked up in the sky and burst into laughter. Loud, cacophonous laughter.

Lost in his world, he knew he had made it.

Every victory, mattered in this city.

This  city. The greatest city on Earth. New York, New York.