New Story

Yesterday I was talking on the phone to my friend.  He was describing to me how he and his neighbor decided to play a game of catch in front of their building in Clinton Hill in the road. It was a beautiful Friday, mid afternoon, sun shining and about 80 degrees.  It's a small road with not much traffic in Brooklyn, except for the occasional motor cycle doing wheelies and  revving to annoy the locals.  As he spoke I could see the game in my head.  The neighbor who is  about 32 had a mitt, my 52 year old  friend not so. The neighbor would pass it back to him with a bounce.  I could see the pleasure and feel the wish of being a kid again. Today I got up early to beat the coming rain and make it in time to  get some food supplies.  I was walking home, carting my food I decided to go the back way, via a side street. It was quiet, the air was fresh. I had missed not being outside yesterday as I  tried to finish some drawings and get work done.  I was in the middle of the street now and I could feel the antiquity of New York City.  I was within the corridor hall of buildings.  Approaching  my destination I stooped down as I picked up an abandoned  beautiful conditioned brown leather baseball mitt.