Our Story

It’s been like this.

I crash through the revolving door of a certain prestigious financial institution and head north on Greenwich Street. Propelled by thoughts of uncertainty and their necessary resolution in Providence, I give chase to clarity for about 30 blocks. I wouldn’t quite have planned it this way, but events of the last 24 hours have landed yet another potential opportunity; and they’re moving on it fast, fast. My feet are screaming and my head is spinning as I wrestle with the question: is this the one?

First Starbucks, then a phone call, I think, nearing 11th Street. A glance at the time means coffee will have to wait, and I set up shop on the front stoop of a nearby brownstone. A quick phone conversation sends me another twelve blocks north and three blocks east to a sign: “We’ve moved!”—far, far away from here. Two more blocks at an aerobic pace to the 4 5 6 train and I pause outside the station. More phone calls (to the repair shop and then the rental agency) bring about the realization that being at midtown at 4:30 PM and Morris County at 5:30 PM will require nothing short of a helicopter.

Leaning against a building, Palm open in one hand, and cell phone pressed under my chin in the other, I stare at the sidewalk and wait for an answer. A woman in her 30s walks by and smiles. “A penny for your thoughts,” she says. I laugh—but, really, I wouldn’t know where to start.