So as he was entering the park that morning, his need for confirmation of his fellow New Yorkers as a rabid bunch of writhing hornballs who could not make it to lunchtime without an orgasm validated, his phone began to ring and it disconcerted him for a minute. It was Joanie, her blushing ID photo picture coming up through the hospital’s internal caller app. Her picture overtook the picture of a personal trainer in a bikini, confusing the superhighway in his brain that had been prepping itself for lust.
