The first time I came to New York City, I was 14 years old. My grandmother died the day before I left. Still, my mom urged me to go, knowing how excited my grandma had been for me to see this grand city. So, I went. I explored the city with my friends and classmates.
The moon was full and still hanging over the city when I disappeared into the night. I felt the lights, the noise, and the skyscrapers moving further away from me; or perhaps, I was leaving them. I’d listened to the same song on repeat nearly 10 times, which is a pretty proud feat for 4