Broken Kilometer by Jody Falco

Unfortunately, for me, that one gesture clarified the situation. We were on West Broadway and Broome, crossing north.  I reached up and straightened the collar of his blue coat. Without a word, I knew. I knew as soon as he reached his hand up and put the crease back in that collar.

I knew I was this white girl who wanted too much, was too married, and wore her skirts too long. And that he was a black man with youth and beauty, the hands of an aristocrat, and standards.

I knew then that’s who we were and who we’d always be.

The gulf widened and we were both swallowed up.

Jody Falco is a writer living and working in New York City.