The bagels that greeted the fresh-stepping crowds gave their spot to hotdogs for a quick lunch, which were replaced by burritos, squishy supper eaten by an evening crowd on their way to drinks. Now it is hot pretzels and empty streets. The city that never sleeps must just be dozing.
She sits alone, trusting the lighted square.
“Guess who,” I say, covering her eyes.
“You’re late, Gregg,” she says.
“You guessed wrong.”
I cover her mouth and drag her to the dark.
The vendor sells his first pretzel in hours. Gregg?
Somewhere the bagelman prepares his cart for the day.
Word count = 100