Emma hummed softly to herself, dodging the miscellaneous debris scattered haphazardly on the sidewalk -- discarded items left over from the open hours of the Chinese grocery store that spanned the block. It wasn't that late yet -- there were people lined up, waiting for the next bus to Boston, or Philly, or somewhere -- and the companionship of such strangers passing her on the street comforted her.
She loved NYC. She spent quite a bit of her time on her own, and preferred it that way when wandering the streets of Manhattan. Given, she had traced this path up to the East Village many times before, but even tired old routes were a welcome solitude. Yet with the sounds and crowds, and other varying stimuli, it was often difficult to feel so alone as to be lonely. Not impossible though, she conceded. There were times it was difficult to be a single digit when it seemed everyone passing by were in twos or threes, or any number greater than one. She sighed at her train of thought, pausing briefly at the intersection of Delancey to wait for the light to change. Great, was she going to delve into self-pity now? Again?
Biting her lip, she trotted across the street. She knew better than to be so overdramatic. She was far from hermetic, far from an introvert -- she was on her way to meet a bunch of friends for her Tuesday night weekly rendezvous at the Sly Fox. She ought to feel ashamed to even remotely consider herself isolated.
Or maybe her situation was just ironic?
Shifting her purse to the other arm, she fingered the keys in her pocket to reassure herself that she didn't lock herself out of her apartment. Maybe she ought to see a therapist. Maybe he'd be cute. She snickered to herself.
Feeling more than hearing her cellphone ring, she pulled it out of her pocket. "Hey Cameron!"
"Heya, doll!" Doll? He was on tonight. "Change of plans..."
