Going Good In That Gentle Night

I've lived in a brownstone in Harlem for the last five years now. Shortly after moving to this neighborhood from the Bronx I witnessed a few street jazz musicians performing their version of the Police's "Every Breath You Take." I walked by thinking this would be a normal occurrence. Haven't seen or heard 'em since.

I also thought I'd spend more time on the stoop of my building. That too hasn't happened...until tonight. I'm a night pastry baker. I typically hit the sack between 4 and 5 AM. So with chapter 2 awaiting comment, the recent heatwave broken and a few hours to kill, I outlined chapter 3 tonight on the stoop accompanied by a cheap cigar.

The next chapter introduces the first local that the main characters will become close with; a young female reporter who's tired of covering uber-local news while a presidential campaign sweeps the rest of the nation. That is, of course, not including local baseball which she'll introduce to them firsthand.

I don't typically write much in the summer because of baseball, but with games usually over by 11pm, a cool breeze running the length of my block after midnight, a bowl of ice cream never too far away and a handful of stogies to go, I reckon the stoop will call again.