Dayroom Meaning Nyc Novels & Stories

Delaney looked over, and noticed Beth standing at the door, waving through the glass. "As if this day couldn’t get any worse," Delaney mumbled. Katy chuckled, while walking over to unlock the door for her. "Hey Mrs. Beth, you know we're not opening for another month—," "Oh, I know silly. Can I come inside and take a look? I see Ms. Delaney over there," she said. Delaney put down her paintbrush. "Nothing gets by you," she mumbled. "How's Dad?" Beth whistled, and made a grand circle in the room. "Your dad is fine, and this room is fantastic. I love the colors, girls. It's going to look better this time, I think."

The word *pixie* was buried somewhere under the ice, completely discarded along with the script. The heavy heavy-duty door to the parking garage slammed shut behind him, the echoing thud leaving Liam completely hollowed out in the center of the locker room. By 8:00 PM, the Tribeca penthouse felt less like a luxury apartment and more like a corporate boardroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a dark, rain-slicked Manhattan skyline, the yellow headlights of cabs crawling like ants through the gridlock below. Inside, the lights were turned up to a bright, sterile white. Chloe was pacing across the polished marble floor of the kitchen, a wireless earbud tucked into her bouncy blonde hair, he

-I imagine that Manhattan's movement doesn't come close to your old town's, right? Clarice asked as she walked beside me. I looked up and stared at her relaxed countenance. -Yeah, I bet there are more people in Times Square than in the entire town of Mount Vernon. The blonde smiled amusedly, letting her attention be stolen by the huge screens that the buildings possessed. The commercial advertisements were all made there, and to be honest it worked very well, since Manhattan was New York's financial center. -But are you liking it here? We stopped in front of Fairfield Inn and Suites hotel, place where Sky Room operated. The blonde stood in front of me, waiting for her answer. I flashed a sma

001 ROOMIE AURORA Her side of the room is a hot mess. My roommate I mean.. Clothes are hanging halfway out of drawers and the bed looks like somebody wrestled a bear on it and lost. I stand frozen in the doorway of Dorm C, Room 214, one hand gripping the handle of my suitcase while the other clutches the crumpled housing paper that definitely says female roommate requested. Requested being the important word, apparently. A sigh leaves my lips. “Okay,” I mutter to myself. “Not judging. Maybe she’s going through something.”

Alcohol, drugs, nothing was prohibited when it came to the case of the green room. “Where is Garret.” I said and two guards stepped in behind me. I inspected them steely, unable to recognize them. It was obvious that they were part of the new recruits but I hoped they were the smart ones. The foolish ones don't quite last in somewhere as shady as the New York police department. I continued in my steps, leading the way in the direction of the door at the other end of the room. The door led to the criminal cell hallway, at the end of the hallway was the door which led to the underground staircase leading into the room. I felt the quality in the gazes of the passersby, everyone all stared at me

Matter of fact, I hadn’t fucked since the last week of November. His dick got hard at the realization. He gave her his infamous smirk. “I happen to know that there’s a walk-in supply closet down the hall.” “Here? You want to do it here? I thought we could get a room or something,” she whispered with wide eyes. Charles licked his lips and stared into her dark blue eyes. “It’s New Year’s Eve in New York City. I’m willing to bet half my fortune that every hotel room is booked.” “What if someone catches us?”

Feeling refreshed and gathered, he takes a few deep breaths, calculating his entrance, plastering a confident look and a smile on his face. With two minutes left on the clock, and not a moment left to wane, River clutches the handles of the doors, pulling them open. He steps into a radiant, lit by daylight conference room, with two figures sitting at the very back. They designed the room with mostly glass and metal, which adds to the twenty-seventh floor allure. An impressive space, with a one-forty degree view of northern Manhattan below. “Ahh, Mr. Kennedi, you’re here.” A strong, vibrant female voice speaks as River turns back around after closing the door.

"Let's go." The Obsidian Room sat on the ninety-second floor of the Wall Street Tower, a private dining salon paneled in polished black marble and dark, smoky glass. Below us, the sea of Manhattan lights stretched out like a glowing circuit board, blurred by the freezing winter rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows. The heavy double doors of the salon slid open, and the low, polite hum of corporate conversation died instantly.

It's a Saturday, so she better be home. The trip to Mrs. McConney's house was only a little over 30 minutes. It was not that far from Times Square but is also on the quiet part of Manhattan. In a tall residential condominium, we parked on the parking lot and headed inside. I left my men outside and entered the lobby alone. Passing by the desk lady, I made my way to the elevator. I already knew what her floor and room number is. The 15th floor's room 908 was a unit right next to the elevator. As soon as I got out, I saw the room and neared it. With a ring to the door, I waited for an answer.

Family Court – 9:03 AM The Family Court of New York State occupied the sixth floor of a nondescript government building on Lafayette Street, its bland institutional interior at odds with the life-altering decisions rendered daily within its walls. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in the unflattering pallor that seemed reserved for places where human suffering was processed with bureaucratic efficiency.