She and I walk towards the subway station in DUMBO. We pass the obnoxious organic pickle shops and vintage bike shops that she still loves to tease me about (I am always going to be the girl from Brooklyn). We are laughing the whole way across the street. My eyes half-closed, I barely notice the cars speeding towards us as we jaywalk across the black asphalt. My laugh reaches a helpless climax and I take a desperate gasp of air....