Justin was sitting on the couch, eating. He'd just returned from his favorite bodega with two cups of coffee and two tall cups of oatmeal, one each for him and his best friend and roommate, Daphne. He thought the oatmeal was the best in the city, and he loved escaping their hot, stuffy (and tiny) apartment and stepping out onto the pavement every morning to get it.

He'd grown up in a suburb, but he couldn't get away fast enough. Get away from the nearly identical pastel houses with grass so green and perfect it looked plastic. Once he'd actually walked through someone's yard to touch the flowers in the flowerbox, to see whether they were real. He seriously couldn't tell from just looking.

But Justin loved to be surrounded by stone, brick, and metal, to hear trains rattling by, to feel the hustle of the city, and to study the often brilliant street art as he walked along, as well as the many different old buildings (of varying sizes, textures, and colors) and the little personal touches on balconies, fire escapes, and steps, a lone flower pot here, children's toys there. He also loved watching people. Alone or gathered in groups, young and old. Rushing to work or to meet someone, chatting, playing cards or chess, walking dogs, exercising (jogging or riding bikes), or, in the case of children, running and chasing, playing jump rope and hopscotch, riding tricycles or bikes, and pulling or riding in wagons. One Saturday, on the way to the pharmacy, he'd taken a road he often passed, but had never walked down. From very far off, he'd heard the long, slow notes of some old-time crooner, maybe Frank Sinatra. That coupled with the sight of a group of old men laughing and talking and people lined up at a nearby hot dog cart was ambience you just couldn't get anywhere else. New York City was always eccentric, exciting, and changing, while strangely also always remaining the same.

Few people were out at 7am, which made walking around at that time, particularly in the summer, even better. It was bright and warm, but not hot, and the city was just waking up. It was surreal, like being on an empty, but brightly lit set.

The reason Justin ventured out so early (even taking the subway since it wasn't walking distance) was a little piece of breakfast heaven. In taste and consistency, the oatmeal seemed a cross between cream of wheat and oatmeal and was sweet, but not too sweet, with milk and a hint of maple. Justin always bought coffees, too, because the coffee was, strange for such a small store, both wonderful (strong and savory) and cheap. Justin sighed in contentment as he ate his oatmeal and drank his coffee.

Daphne was doing the sacrilegious, letting her coffee and oatmeal get cold as she surfed the Web. Suddenly, she cried out, "We have a winner!"

Justin looked at his best friend curiously. "Have you been buying lottery tickets again?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Nooo…"

Then nonchalantly, though a smile continually threatened to break out on her face, she added, "I just, you know, posted a missed connection ad on Craigslist."

Justin narrowed his eyes and asked suspiciously, "For whom?"

(On the way home from the bodega, Justin had spotted the most beautiful man on the subway. But twenty minutes ago, he'd finished regaling her with a description of his dream man.)

Daphne just smiled.

Justin groaned, "Daphne, you didn't!"

"What? I was just acting in your best interest…I wouldn't normally post an ad for you, but you seemed to like him sooo much. Hell. You said you saw the "face of God." How could I let you let him slip away?"

Justin buried his face in his hands and groaned again, before he looked back up at his best friend and asked, uneasily, "How did you word the ad?"

Daphne smiled again, cleared her throat, and read, "I saw the face of God on the F train."

"Fuck, Daph! Could you have made me sound like more of a freak?"

Daphne ignored Justin and continued, "Me: 19, 5'9, blond, with blue eyes, a perfectly rounded ass, and a great smile."

"A perfectly rounded…? Geez! Why not just say I'm desperate for a cock in the ass?"

Daphne scoffed, "Not just any cock! The one attached to G.Q. Super Hottie, esquire, your towering hazel-eyed Adonis." She sighed comically, placed both hands on her heart, batted her eyelashes, and tilted her head skyward. Justin shot a pillow at her, hitting her right in the face. He chuckled. She glared at her best friend, but then cleared her throat again and read on, "You: 6'2 or 6'3, chestnut hair, with hazel eyes and bronze skin. You were drinking coffee and reading GQ. I couldn't catch your eye, and I was a little too stunned to approach you when your stop came."

More groaning came from the couch. Daphne sighed heavily when she looked over and saw her best friend buried under throw pillows. "You are such a drama queen!"

Then she finished, "If I'm lucky and this actually reaches you, please reply with the color and type of suit you were wearing, so I know it's really you."

Daphne jumped up and knocked the pillows off of Justin. She exclaimed, "You're missing the best part, you dolt!"

Justin quirked an eyebrow.

"He replied!"

Justin froze and then sat up. "That would explain your screaming…"

Daphne opened both her eyes wide and nodded.

Feigning nonchalance, Justin asked, "So…what did he say?"

Daphne returned to the computer and wrinkled her nose. "Not much. 'Fawn. Armani.'"

"Oh my God!"

"Is that your guy?"

Justin grinned and nodded his head. "Now what?"

Daphne shot him a "Duh" look. "Uh…you reply."

"But, I mean, what should I say?"

"Hmmm…how about…I have an art show tonight. Wanna come?"

Daphne waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Justin frowned. "I don't know…"

Daphne quickly typed the message, along with an address and a time. Then she hit send. She grinned. "Too late!"

She received a pillow to the face in response.