Love at the End of Time. Dieser Artikel ist nicht verfügbar.Love at the End of Time

May 2015: Dorit was my neighbor in the apartment building I lived in on East 88th Street between 1st and York Avenues in Manhattan. She lived two doors from me. One afternoon weekday, she knocked on my door. I almost never got knocks on my door since I moved in a year previous, especially on a weekday. I opened the door to reveal a stunning brunette, curly hair down to her shoulders, olive skin, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. I had never seen her before, going in and out of the building. She was fully dressed all in black: low-cut blouse, leggings, skirt, and ankle-high combat boots. She said: --Hi, am Dorit, Dorit Abrams. I live two doors down from you. I’m wondering, can I borrow some sugar from you? I am out of sugar for my two cups of coffee, which I need in my system before rushing off to work. --Sure thing. Why don’t come inside while I get you some?

Biodun Iginla is a new news media political analyst for major news media organizations and also a writer and a novelist who divide his time among New York, Minneapolis, and London.