Zabar’s in the early morning, when you’re almost the only customer in the store. Everyone’s setting up, waiting for the day to begin, and there’s a hopeful quality that disappears in the exhausted rush of the day.
The cheese people will wave and smile at you. And the fish guys, who become taciturn later on (except in the presence of children for whom, in my experience, they always have a smile), will actually talk to you as they unwrap the slabs of salmon and wipe the display windows down.
Walking home, the feeling lasts. People on the street nod at one another like conspirators with a wonderful secret. For this moment, the city belongs to us.