from an email to someone who wouldn't appreciate it

     I just had this strange revelatory moment. I guess it was a little longer than a moment, but it was so nice. I went down and got my laundry from the dryer, and it included my comforter, and I was waiting for the elevator and dancing around a little bit with the comforter, as I am likely to do if I am alone in a lobby at 3am. And then the elevator landed and in the silence it suddenly seemed so strange, and I thought of how different it would be if my building were in New York, and I thought of all the lobbies I've been in and waited in and danced in through my whole life. . . and everything was absolutely that wet kind of quiet, and there was a sort of faint rosy-musk NY taxi scent in there. And then I just sat down in the lobby for a while and rested my chin on my comforter and noticed it. It reminded me of all the sorts of places I used to have to go to be alone before I had someplace of my own. It even had the same sort of damp-library temperature. I really liked it. It was nice to sit there. It was calm and cooling, like resting your face against marble.