A Piece of Heaven In Hell's Kitchen (Open)

It was a beautiful winter day in New York City. The sun was shining brightly as pure white clouds, untainted by the city's smog, rolled on by while the wind remained almost perfectly still. There was no harsh cold snap of air to be had, just the nice refreshing sensation of the cold. It was one of those days in New York City where happy couples would walk by together, where the men would have their hands shoved deep within their pockets, while the women walked alongside them clinging to an arm with smiles painted across their faces. How he wished that could have been him.

He sat back on the black park bench, watching as people went along their merry way. If only things had turned out differently for him, maybe his life would hold more meaning. Maybe it would be more like theirs. He woke up each morning and brushed his teeth, threw on whatever looked like it would pass as clean, and then out the door he went. There was no nine to five for him, no special somebody to go see and spend time with. In this world, in this life, he was alone for the most part. His only steady companions were his thoughts.

He'd think about that summer day, how his life had so suddenly and violently turned on it's head. Like somebody upstairs decided to just up and flip a switch. It wasn't fair and anybody who knew of his history would agree, but then again such is life. Isn't it? There wasn't anything that he could do to change the past and even if he could go back in time to just the right moment, would he have been able to do anything to avert it? Not likely, he knew.

He remembered reading the police report. How the cause of the fire had been inconclusive. It was a frustrating facet of his life, the constant struggle of having to live with and accept the fact that he would probably never know what had truly happened that day.

On the adjacent street across from what passes for a park in Hell's Kitchen stood a hotdog vendor. The savory smell of juicy frankfurters wafted through the air and appealed to his senses. How long had it been since he'd last enjoyed a decent hot dog? He rose from the park bench and approached the vendor.

As he approached, the aroma became stronger. The smell of hot dog meat and fresh bread was almost intoxicating/ He hadn't eaten anything that day except for a pop tart and a cup of coffee, which he was still holding and which was still scalding hot.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill in exchange for the hot dog. The vendor offered him the change, but he waved him off. People had to eat, and he was feeling more generous than usual.

He made his way back to the small black park bench and sat down to enjoy a little bit of New York Heaven.