“Isn’t it this building over here?†GB caught my sleeve as I headed for the awning that said National Arts Club. He pointed to the building two doors down, on the corner.
“No, that says SVA. And it’s number 17.â€
I turned back for the brownstone with the awning as GB checked the post-it note in his hand. A boy in a white watched us from behind the many tiny panes of a mahogany door, a double row of buttons on his jacket gleaming gold.
“But this building doesn’t look like it has eight floors.†» Read the rest of this entry «