Fifth Avenue in January felt like a “forensic” lesson in the cruelty of the elements, and I was a man of small, practical routines, clutching my coffee as I pushed through another morning in finance. Just outside my office tower, a woman in a thin sweater sat pressed against the cold marble while people flowed around her in “clumsy” avoidance, their indifference as practiced as their commutes. I reached for spare change and found only lint, ready to offer a reflexive apology, but a sudden “unvarnished truth” stopped me: I
Unexpected Test On Fifth Avenue
