A woman in her forties, sitting on her balcony is attempting to battle the war known as the NY Times Crossword puzzle. She sits idle, stuck on one of the 15 letter word that eludes her so dearly.
This woman is content, the lines on her face tells the story of a great battle with one known as harlem. She is strong, she let's nothing past her thick skin.
The neighborhood folk is familiar with everyone, like one in an extended family under one roof.
A knock on the door disrupts her line of thought. "I'm coming, hold your horses. I"m getting money"
But nothing changes really, of a New York born, New York bred when it comes to a good slice of deep dish pizza.
Opening the door, she is greeted with quite an attractive Italian-American New Yorker. Not her usual delivery man
"Well...where's Adam?" She asks.
"He's sick." The Delivery man says.
"Should I be glad that Adam's sick?" She checks him out.
"You should be." He hands her the box of pizza.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Sonny sends his regards."
"Sonny? There's no Sonny at Nat's Pizza."
This lady's smile falls to the earth, her eyes widening in a moment of terror. She didn't have time to register this into her thoughts, until she felt the cold metal rip through her body. Tearing through her heart.
"Say hi to Louie Messer for me."