Page 11 of If We Meet Again

“I bet! Anyway,I must go.”

“Adios,Miss Davis.”

“Bye, Alberto.”

Megan walked down Central Park West. The sun remained hidden behind the skyscrapers of New York for the time being. She had been to the same basketball court four times in the past week. The leisurely stroll lasted forty minutes; it was a pleasant one and also qualified asher warm-up.

After five minutes, she turned onto 69th, detouring away from Central Park and towards the rows of brownstone apartments. The streets around Central Park reminded her of a small suburb in the middle of a big city. Megan noted how the quiet serenity was unusual for New York; the birds chirping in the tree-lined streets filled with friendly neighbours exchanging pleasantries—it was postcard-worthy.

Ashley had crossed her mind on multiple occasions since their telephone conversation, but to her disappointment, there had been no attempt to reach out. That made Megan curious to know;what was she doing? Did she think about her too?Their brief conversation had been effortless, or at least she thought so. The ease with which they conversed had surprised Megan and made her eager to get to know Ashley more. There was no time likethe present.

Megan pulled her phone from her pocket, clicked on the message icon and within seconds, she sent the message—nohesitation.

Hey! Areyou at work?

The answer was immediate.

Hi! Not until later this afternoon. Why?

That was the answer Megan had hoped for. While the courage still surged through her body, she hit thecall button.

“Hello?”

“Hey, can you talk?”

“Sure. I get the feeling you don’t like texting.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“How come?” Ashley probed.

“It’s boring, don’t you think? I will text if I have to, but I much prefer to call someone. Besides, I can hear how hilarious you think I am down the phone, not so much on a message.‘Lol’just doesn’t cutit for me.”

Ashley laughed; Megan’s point proven.

“See, you find me hilarious. How would I know that througha message?”

“I agree, you are funny. Hilarious might be a stretch, but there is time to beconvinced.”

“I’ll take that challenge. What are you doing? I didn’t disturb your morning meditation, did I?”

“What makes you thinkI meditate?”

“I don’t know. Most people in New York meditate or do yoga, I figured you’d fit into one of the two. Is that too stereotypical?”

“Very, but I’ll let you off. I fit into neither actually, I like to do myown thing.”

Megan grinned. “And what does that involve?”

“Drinking a selection of the finest coffees whilst watching re-runs of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. If I’m feeling really adventurous I’ll sometimes gofor a jog.”

“I see, you’re that type,” Megan sniggered. “Speaking of stereotypical, my interaction with the doorman this morning made me think of you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, turns out he does know my name and I now know his; he’s called Alberto. Seems likea nice guy.”

“So, I was right. I have my stereotypes down, you on the other hand, need to work on yours.”