St. Petersburg In Harlem: A Short Story
A Piece of St. Petersburg in Harlem
She’s different, is all I muttered as I sat on the 1 train on a painfully humid afternoon. I had been sulking for no other reason than not having the courage to talk to her that day. I had only awkwardly half smiled. She was captivating, yet peculiar; she talked with a mild Russian accent, all the while incorporating the slang commonly used by those who live uptown and in the Bronx. I made her acquaintance at my job at the time, a large clothing store smack dab in the middle of Times Square. This store in particular radiated the kind of environment that would drive any man insane, if it were not for the likes of beautiful woman trotting around aimlessly and occasionally needing my assistance. Her name …show more content…
She told me she was from St. Petersburg. I knew next to nothing of the city, I figured it just like Moscow, cold and impenetrable, even for histories greatest of men. Furthermore, she revealed that she and her family lived on 135th and Amsterdam, as it was the only place a family of four, with limited English skills, no connections, and no immediate jobs, could afford to live. I absorbed every word she spoke, as if her words were encrypted messages that would disappear forever, if not held onto and handled with great care and attention. The damn humidity kept breaking my train of …show more content…
“Deep neurosis, bro”, spat the rational part of my conscious “Hey remember you told me you lived here! Ha…ha.” Natural selection was conspired to weed out dumbasses like me I began to think. As I took one last glance at the scene before me, the gray neighborhood with its high rises and brownstones, with all its quirks and grit and innumerable ally’s masterfully arranged, it all seemed to melt away into a cohesive and formidable entity. It now possessed a sense of oneness and grandeur, which no palace on earth could ever match. I tore the thought of a facilitated encounter from my mind, as if sacrificing a part of me. I stood up and continued on my walk back home as the sky darkened and a light drizzle began to pour, alleviating the humidity, but making that day ever more
She’s different, is all I muttered as I sat on the 1 train on a painfully humid afternoon. I had been sulking for no other reason than not having the courage to talk to her that day. I had only awkwardly half smiled. She was captivating, yet peculiar; she talked with a mild Russian accent, all the while incorporating the slang commonly used by those who live uptown and in the Bronx. I made her acquaintance at my job at the time, a large clothing store smack dab in the middle of Times Square. This store in particular radiated the kind of environment that would drive any man insane, if it were not for the likes of beautiful woman trotting around aimlessly and occasionally needing my assistance. Her name …show more content…
She told me she was from St. Petersburg. I knew next to nothing of the city, I figured it just like Moscow, cold and impenetrable, even for histories greatest of men. Furthermore, she revealed that she and her family lived on 135th and Amsterdam, as it was the only place a family of four, with limited English skills, no connections, and no immediate jobs, could afford to live. I absorbed every word she spoke, as if her words were encrypted messages that would disappear forever, if not held onto and handled with great care and attention. The damn humidity kept breaking my train of …show more content…
“Deep neurosis, bro”, spat the rational part of my conscious “Hey remember you told me you lived here! Ha…ha.” Natural selection was conspired to weed out dumbasses like me I began to think. As I took one last glance at the scene before me, the gray neighborhood with its high rises and brownstones, with all its quirks and grit and innumerable ally’s masterfully arranged, it all seemed to melt away into a cohesive and formidable entity. It now possessed a sense of oneness and grandeur, which no palace on earth could ever match. I tore the thought of a facilitated encounter from my mind, as if sacrificing a part of me. I stood up and continued on my walk back home as the sky darkened and a light drizzle began to pour, alleviating the humidity, but making that day ever more