Katwalk by Maria Murnane Page A

married, so maybe he was just being friendly. They had clearly enjoyed talking with each other the other night. They could be friends even though he was married, couldn’t they?
    Glancing at the counter, Katrina saw that Justin was busy serving a new customer. She took a seat and considered the invitation, which seemed harmless enough.
    Would it be okay to go?
    Is it appropriate?
    Things are different in New York, right?
    She tried to think of the best way to reply to the message. She began typing a response several times but deleted each one and started again. Nothing she wrote seemed to convey the attitude she wanted to project, probably because she wasn’t even sure what that was.
    She sat there for a few moments, staring at her phone, then finally typed a brief note saying sure, i t’d be fun. It was just a drink, right? That was allowed. He didn’t need to know she found him attractive. They could have a friendly chat about how she was settling into New York, and maybe h e’d give her some good tips on things to see while she was in town.
    As soon as she pressed send she noticed someone approaching her table. She looked up and saw the skinny young barista standing over her.
    “Justin asked me to give this to you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.
    “Oh, thanks.” She opened the note and read it as he walked away.
    It was a list of insider things to do in New York.
    She looked over at the counter, but Justin was gone.

    Katrina spent an hour or so exploring the East Village, which was sprinkled with dozens of boutiques, antique stores, thrift shops, and sidewalk vendors, each of which somehow managed to be unique and trendy in its own highly distinctive way. Every few steps she spotted something sh e’d never see in Mountain View. A girly pink purse covered in peace symbols hanging next to a black tank top painted with an angry skull and crossbones. An array of coffee mugs featuring vulgar yet humorous slogans that made her blush. A vintage lace dress on a headless mannequin. A small mountain of well-worn political and religious books piled atop a sagging card table.
    The gritty streets were a veritable bastion of the hip and cool, with just enough touristy knickknacks on display to make more mainstream visitors like Katrina feel comfortable. At first she felt like a fish out of water as she popped in and out of bohemian stores and browsed the myriad sidewalk displays of funky jewelry, clothing, artwork, and albums, but there were so many other people there from all walks of life that she soon relaxed and began to enjoy the energy pulsating around her. By the end of her jaunt, she felt almost like a veteran. In one postage-stamp-sized shop she even bought a pink neck scarf, a knitted blue hat, and a pair of dangly silver earrings, all three of which breached the boundaries of her normal conservative style—but which she found absolutely adorable. Whether or not she would ever feel comfortable wearing any of these things was another story, but she was proud of herself for having purchased something other than yet another pair of black pants.
    She bought a ham-and-cheese sandwich at a deli on East Seventh Street and stopped by her apartment to pick up a fresh canvas before heading out to Tompkins Square Park, the place Justin had said was good for people watching. Once there, she sat on a bench and set up her easel, then unwrapped the sandwich and took in the scene as she ate.
    Justin hadn’t been kidding. It was a crisp weekday afternoon in October, but she could just as easily believe it was a warm summer Saturday, given how much was going on around her. To her left, a group of older men were intently watching two of their peers battle it out in a game of chess. To her right, a young couple lay side by side on a blanket, fingers interlaced, each holding an e-reader in the air with their free hands. Nearby, a young man with a long ponytail played guitar and sang folk songs, the large case propped open at