Thursday, October 20, 2011

I entered the massive main space of the Armory Y, gave my card to the security lady, walked toward the hallway to the exercise rooms. “Cold Sweat” was playing from some speakers somewhere, on the other side of the track with the basketball court inside. There didn’t seem to be anyone anywhere.

I passed the main desk by the wall and observed the woman sitting there, a young black woman. She looked up across the room and her face lit up with glee.

“That’s right!” she shouted.

I looked where she was looking. A man had emerged from one of the corridors and was dancing on the parquet floor, tight little steps, a spin. And then he stopped and turned away, gave a little wave, and walked back into the dark.