If You Can’t Take the Heat

As the air gets cooler, I’m reminded of my own first autumn in New York. One night in early winter, not long after I’d moved from my hometown of Baltimore, stands out.

It was 3:02 a.m. when I was jolted awake by an ear-splitting racket. BANG! BANG! BANG! From my spot on the couch, I scanned my first-floor apartment for the source of the sound. As a bubbly, blond 22-year-old dying to prove I could make it in the big city, I had thought my stretch of East 54th Street was safe. Read more