Saturday evening found me restless. It was a perfect summer night in New York--the kind of weather that makes you believe that this is the most perfect city in the entire world. Suddenly, the insufferable, frigid winter weather seems as though it was merely a figment of the imagination. This was the kind of night that made out-of-towners sip their cocktails and begin plotting how and when they could possibly call this place "home."
I sat across from Hermann and sipped my negroni. "I think we need to infuse a little magic into our lives," I blurted. He squinted across the table, trying to figure out where this was headed. "What?" he said. It was more of a statement than a question. He was hoping to hit me off at the pass.
"I think we need to work on bringing some magic into our lives." I repeated. "I think we're both caught up in the day to day and we forget how lucky we are to live here. I think we need to discover new things about the city and just do more to feel...I don't know. Alive."
He rubbed his head and furrowed his brow. "Ames," he groaned. "We do a lot of things. You always say we don't, but we do. Sometimes, life gets in the way."
I resisted the urge to cross my arms. "Herm, I'm only saying that we should plan things to do that are fun. They don't have to be extravagant, but we need to make an effort. It's important."
Movement behind Hermann's shoulder caught my eye. The waiter appeared with our appetizers and Hermann took advantage of the break in conversation to change the subject.
After dinner, we walked through the West Village, linking pinky fingers because it was too hot to hold hands. I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Magic," I whispered. I smiled as I felt his finger squeeze mine.
We stopped on a street corner, trying to decide where to go next. I looked down and gasped. There, spray painted on the sidewalk at my feet, I saw it:
"Hermie! Look!" I pointed.
"See, Ames? Told you. We have plenty of magic."