TWO YEARS IN NEW YORK (Michael Mohr's Fictional NYC Covid Memoir)

Chapter 17 (PAID)

Photo by Tomas Anton Escobar on Unsplash

Chapter 17

I stood in my new apartment less than a month later, on June 15^th. It’d taken me only two weeks to score a place, but the move-in date hadn’t been until the middle of June. It was a score, big-time: A little pre-war shotgun shoebox one-bedroom on a second-floor walkup in Lenox Hill, in the prestigious Upper East Side. The steel-gray five-story building sat on East 70^th, between York to the east and 1^st Ave to the west. There were cafes and coffee shops and restaurants all around me, many of which were closed now, some of which were open with new outdoor seating, New Yorkers sitting together clustered in spread-out groups, their blue hospital masks over their faces, the New Normal.

            Getting the place had been cosmic. My third broker—the first one had disappeared and th…