They were maybe sixteen years old and definitely not breaking up.
She had practically collapsed, looking at her iphone.
Watching him comfort her, pushing her hair away to stroke her face, pointing down the street that spoke of a plan to make things better, hugging her, holding her when she burrowed deeper into his embrace... I thought who says you're too young to know what love is?
You know when you put your arms around someone because you want to make it better. You know when you bury your heartbreak into those arms and feel better.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.