The Outlands | Guidance
When your time is your own, you’ll set aside some for your best friend. Lunch is scheduled in the West Village, at an Australian restaurant. Upon arrival, a Brazilian Princess holds a ring left in her care for safekeeping. It was the ring I had initially chosen to wear the day I was to set sail for an evening with Neptune. A chain-link had broken, and I decided to leave it somewhere safe. Pinstriped pants, a grey cardigan sweater, and a black Yves Saint Laurent croc bag arrived first. As I approached, she called,
“Hi, baby angel!”
And rubies were passed from one princess’s pinky to another’s pointer. We both had officially claimed back our time. I was patiently waiting for some paperwork to be filed as she told me about the clock she was listening to. She needed safe passage. My clock had been ticking, and I was eagerly watching the mail. When she told me her dilemma, a lightbulb went off, and I whispered a plan in her ear. With a hug and a handshake, a decade-long friendship had turned into a grand plan. As we walked the streets of Soho, we ducked into a perfumery—one of the best Arab delicacies.
As we parted, she went West to pick up a bag she had left for repair. I accidentally hopped on the downtown 6, and it took me to the Brooklyn Bridge. I stepped outside the station, figuring I’d take in the view. First, I saw the bridge to Downtown Brooklyn. Then I turned and looked up.
I took the 4 headed uptown and transferred at the canal to take the Q to Union.
Never have I ever split the 5, it’s where the rodents lie. I’ve always trusted the 4 or the 6, and 6 was afraid of 7 because 7, 8, 9.
