There's this girl sleeping next to me right now. She's grabbed my left foot with one of her sleeping hands and is snoring a little. I'm sitting here, reading* a bit and texting a bit and interneting a bit. And I'm thinking, "how long will I have to live in New York without having a girl that I'm this comfortable with? How long will I live in that city without a real friend?"
* The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, Allison Hoover Bartlett.