Featured Stories of Hope
It was a warm and bright April morning and all of New York City seemed to have come alive with the return of the warmth after a long winter. I, on the other hand, was still frozen. I woke up that morning with that all too familiar pit in my stomach, made my way to the window and lit a cigarette. Through the glare of sunlight, I found myself staring out onto the streets of Murray Hill. My eyes focused on the scene below and I began analytically fantasizing about the scene before me. Hundreds of people were scattered about the sidewalks below. Only a few floors up, I could see their faces.