‘I Woke Up to Find My Girlfriend Sitting on the Edge of the Bed’

Dear Diary:

It was a Sunday morning. I woke up to see my girlfriend in yoga pants and rain jacket sitting on the edge of the bed. She laced up her tennis shoes.

“I tried to go to yoga,” she said, “but our doorknob fell off.”

“We’re stuck in here?” I asked.

“For now, I guess,” she said, tossing a sneaker towards the closet.

“Did you call the super?”

“No,” she said. “I’d rather go back to bed.”

– Danny McAlindon

Dear Diary:

I was walking through SoHo when I noticed a crowd in front of the Crosby Street Hotel. I asked a young couple who they were waiting for.

We don’t know, they said, explaining that they had seen the crowd and decided to wait too.

I asked how long they waited.

About 30 minutes, they told me.

“You’ve been waiting for someone you don’t know for 30 minutes?” I asked.

“Yes,” said one of them. “It could be a celebrity.”

I took a few steps and saw a woman standing with her two teenage daughters.

“Who are you waiting for?” I asked her.

“We don’t know,” said the woman. “We saw the crowd and decided to wait. It could be someone famous. “

“How long did you wait?” I asked.

“Maybe 40 minutes or so,” said the woman. “Not really sure.”

At this point the hotel doors opened, but only for the doorman to make sure the crowd wasn’t blocking the entrance.

As I walked a little further down the block, I noticed a man who was sitting in a car.

“Are you waiting too?” I asked him.

“You can bet on it!” he said.

“But you don’t know who it is?”

“Doesn’t matter, it could be someone,” he said.

“And if it is someone,” he added, “I don’t want to miss it.”

– Jeanne McAuliffe

Dear Diary:

I was on the Q at 8am, driving from Park Slope to Times Square every day.

As it approached the Manhattan Bridge, the train stopped abruptly, as always. My friends and I call it the East River Stop.

The train was pretty full that morning and I was pushed against one of the doors next to a man in a red tracksuit.

Another man in a suit was right in front of us, trying to nibble on a croissant, read and sip his hot coffee at the same time. As he took a dangerous second sip, the man next to me spoke.

“You’re trying to do too many things, brother, too many things,” he shouted. “I swear to God if you can get coffee on these shoes, man …”

The man in the suit stopped immediately and looked over with a shocked expression on his face.

I couldn’t help but laugh because the guy in the tracksuit had just said what we were all thinking.

No coffee was spilled.

– Amanda Heartco

Dear Diary:

I woke up late on a Saturday morning after an 18-hour workday on Friday. I was sore and groggy. My two cats usually wake me up at exactly 6am for breakfast, but that morning they graciously let me sleep in.

As I was making coffee in the kitchen, I looked down and saw red paw prints all over the white tile floor.

Startled, I ran back to the bedroom to check the cats’ feet and bodies for wounds. They yawned and seemed annoyed by my examination.

Back in the kitchen, I pressed my nose to the floor to see if I could smell blood, but couldn’t. I thought the cats might have ransacked the pantries, but a quick inspection of all the closets found no evidence.

I cleaned up the mess and went back to making my coffee. When it was done, I poured myself a cup and let my brain emerge from its mist.

As I sat there, I noticed a notification on my phone. It was a text message from my landlord: “Jelly Donut in the front of the shelf – have fun.”

It was interrupted with a smiley emoji.

– Gordon Arkenberg

Dear Diary:

It was the early 1980s and I was riding into town with a friend on the Madison Avenue bus. She was trying to describe a new invention she had just seen in her office: post-it notes. They were sticky but didn’t really hold on to things, she said.

“They can be easily removed,” she explained, “and won’t leave any glue on the page.”

I was easily confused.

“Well, how do you stay tuned if you don’t really have glue?” I asked.

At that moment a man across from us got up from his seat, taped a small square of yellow paper to the outside of my coat, and sat down again.

I looked down and picked up the slip of paper. Ab came.

I suddenly understood.

– Leslie Long

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Illustrations by Agnes Lee

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