* This is a complimentary read and review copy sent by the author and BookPleasures. Not a purchased copy
'David Lowell was up before five. He left his townhouse on East Ninety-Third Street and walked out into the darkness. Only Wall Streeters for the subway and diner workers serving the first coffee were up this early. Although it was an unseasonably mild November, the early morning chill forced him to pull the collar of his leather jacket up around his neck. He left his ponytail tucked in.
It was late autumn, and most of the trees had long since lost their flamboyant costumes. A few luminous oaks and maples had stubbornly refused to relinquish their bright skirts and stood out strikingly against a canvas of aging brick and cold steel. He touched the hair around his ears, his own foliage, faded grey from so many turns on the merry-go-round. How drab is humankind, he thought, so unadorned in its final days. Not gallantly lit up like autumn leaves, a brief colorful flair of brilliance against death's pale pallet, but washed out and ominous, like the sky before a coming storm. No thought of the inevitable spring, only of the seemingly endless winter.
He needed to take a long walk. Lost in his thoughts, he strolled from the Upper East Side all the way to Soho, the dark city passing in a fog. He walked up and down the city's subtle hills as he made his way south. He crossed Spring Street and went down to Canal where he turned left and passed jewelry stores and knock-off purse kiosks. Most were still closed, their......'
- Debolina Raja Gupta