A Fifth of a Second

As Wren and I enjoyed our lunch at the 56th Street atrium, an old gentleman approached us. He wore an impeccable suit beneath a long, fitted coat and clutched a copy of the New York Times in one arm.

"What is the best city in the world," he asked.

I fumbled to answer his question earnestly, but Wren knew the punchline.

"New York," she answered.

The man pressed himself against the table and leaned towards Wren.

"Do you know the difference between a New Yorker and a Midwesterner," he asked.

Both of us shrugged.

"A fifth of a second!"

The man leaned back, grinned, then strode away.