Novel Upper West Side Novels & Stories

OV MIRA The morning sunlight filtered softly through the tall, arched windows of our newly opened office on the third floor of the brownstone. Down below on West 72nd Street, the steady hum of Manhattan life went on, punctuated by the occasional ring of a bicycle bell or the distant thrum of a delivery truck. For three weeks, this room had smelled of fresh paint, wood polish, and the rich aroma of espresso from the machine Sarah had set up in the staff break room. It felt like a sanctuary.

Monday couldn’t come any quicker as the weekend passed in a blur. I had my meeting with Taylor today at a popular cafe in the Upper East Side by 2pm and it was past 10am. I have less than 4 hours to figure out what to wear to that part of the world. Because that’s exactly what the Upper East Side was, a different would of its own. It had its own rules, its own culture and many other things us downtowners aren’t privy to.