Finding Rose

It wasn’t the first time I’d been to New York. We always came up for Christmas to see my grandparents and my uncle, and we stayed in the same hotel as last time. The last time we’d come, my parents had let me go several places by myself for the first time. I just hoped they were as trusting this time around.

My mom had taken a cab to the hospital, leaving my dad, my brother and I to unpack and such at the hotel.
“Hey dad?”
“Can I look for a good restaurant close by?”
“Sure, don’t stay out too long…”
Normally, my dad would’ve said no, for he knew the area even better than I did, but he was dazed from getting up so early and still dealing with the fact grandma had cancer.

When I got out of the hotel, I realized something. I pulled out my cell phone and called Rose.
“Hey, you forgot to tell me where you are, silly.”
She giggled.
“Oh yea, well I’m at the restaurant called Blue Hill.”
I nodded, looking up to see it only two blocks away.
“Alright, see ya there, sweetie.”

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