I was not the person I used to be

But I was still a usual person

The air when I emerged from the exit of Penn Station had that scoopable thickness: that’s what the air is like in Manhattan in August. Hummus, but air. I appreciated its familiarity. The last time I came to Manhattan for an evening, for dinner, was in March 2020, a cheeseburger from a truck in Times Square before a preview performance of a new musical. …