Making his way down 5th Avenue, towards Central Park, Dante felt meh. How could he have been so stupid as to fall for this again? When will he ever learn? 

He passes The Plaza, an enormous building that reeks of splendor and glamour. He watches the bellboys help a group of laughing, fur-clad women with their monogrammed suitcases. Men in suits stand scattered around the steps of the hotel, smoking cigarettes. Dante suddenly stops and just stares at all the activity. How different would life be if he was able to live that carefree and oblivious to struggle?  A sudden yelp from a very small and hairless dog awakens him from his dazed moment, and he abruptly continues to walk. 

Crossing the street and narrowly avoiding getting hit by a dingy, yellow cab, Dante walks briskly pass the many horses and hot dog carts lining the entrance to Central Park. Hot dogs. Those were Josh’s favorite BBQ food. What an asshole. Absolved to forget his troubles for a bit, Dante enters the park and sits on the first bench he can find. The wind has picked up, making the late afternoon colder than expected. Golden leaves begin to fall all around him, as pigeons coo in the hopes that some stragglers might divest themselves of food. Letting out a huge sigh, Dante takes a look around and notices all the different kinds of folks. You have your runners, with their bluetooth headphones on, running to the sound of the beat in their ears. The stroller clad mothers, probably heading to meet up with friends. The older gentleman, drink his coffee while walking his dogs, who weirdly look just like him. 

Dante closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and says to himself, “You’re gonna be just fine.” 

And for the first time in a while, he believed it.

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