This morning in New York four hundred cab drivers yelled fuck you out their windows before eight am.
Two and a half thousand NYU students jerked themselves off before getting out of bed, and twelve senior citizens had sex in the shower propping themselves up on accessibility chairs and hand rails. Seven hundred people woke up with come in their hair and three hundred dogs peed on the floor at the prospect of going out into the snow.
Forty-seven-thousand-three-hundred and sixty two people had morning sex, and nearly half of them closed their eyes and thought of someone else just before they came. Nine hundred boys spied on their sisters getting dressed for school, and three hundred teachers tried not to think of their students as they touched themselves in the shower.
This morning in New York a million cups of coffee were made, along with three hundred thousand egg and cheese sandwiches and seventy five thousand chai lattes. Nineteen people had anal sex for the first time and only four of them cried. As the snow started to fall, seven thousand New Yorkers tried–and failed–to call in sick, and at exactly 8:15 two thirds of the cats in the city were still sleeping.
Just as the sun was coming up, twenty-six people fucked on yoga mats and one hundred and sixty three people hit snooze for the seventh time.
This morning in New York three thousand people said I love you for the first time, and three thousand people said goodbye.
(From my recent collection of short stories: Tales of New York, now available on Amazon.)