Soundwalk

         Midday at Washington Square Park: The weather is fair enough to draw a crowd. On a bench beside me, two students, I presume, chatter - “I’ve already solidified the friendship,” one boy expounds to another. He sounds frustrated. “I just can’t escape it.” The conversation drones on as soft jazz from a makeshift trio closer to the arch underscores the scene. There is patter from pets - dogs shuffling by with their owners, conversations cross-pollinating as they pass me. Phone calls. Farther, the attendant sounds of New York as a whole - traffic, vague construction work. Horns and drills.
 “I don’t always hate interacting with her,” this boy continues. “Sometimes she’s really fun.” His friend has a laptop, and types infrequently, breaking to impart advice. “What do you think you’ll do?”
 Then applause from a scant few spectators for the jazz trio. A song finished, and another begins.
 “I’m not sure.”
 An older woman then passes by and gasps as a rat darts across the pathway.
 The boy with the predicament sighs. There is silence for a few moments, and the background amplifies - the jazz song becomes more clear, the noise of New York jarringly cuts through.
 “Anyways, let’s go.”
 The boys get up and walk away.