““Get up, lady, you can’t sleep in the park.” I sat up, blinking into the dawn. Papers fluttered off me like wings. The man standing over me was dressed all in dark blue. He had a round face with a nose as flat as a squashed peach, and the same color. I was not in my bed at the Number 13 house nor—even with the trees I could see around me—was I in my nest in the Greenwood. “Where am I?” “Riverside Park,” he grumbled. River side. Then I remembered the sluggish river. And something else. “Music,” ...I said. “Not a sound,” he answered. “Did you lose your iPod?” It was as if we were speaking two different tongues. Perhaps I had been transported to yet another world even as I slept. “Is it still the New York?” I asked. “It’s not the New Jersey,” he said. Suddenly, I recalled the red cap belonging to the piper, though I could not bring up either his face or his name. He had returned me my money. I touched my skirt and could hear the coins rattle. “Lady, if you have money, what the hell are you doing sleeping out here in the park?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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