He didn’t really believe that she could actually see him standing in the window of his 47th-floor office, but he hoped she would feel his presence. She, meanwhile, walked through the park, searching for the perfect bench from which to start reading her new copy of “Anna Karenina.” The bench had to be in an area that was not so popular that she would have to share it (her fear of edges mandated that she sit in the middle of the bench), and not so isolated that a random act by a stranger could get her in the newspaper. It also had to be shaded, but away from trees (an unfortunate incident involving pigeons and squirrels last summer left her skittish). She selected a bench, sat in the middle, smoothed out her skirt, and removed the book, a cheese-and-lettuce sandwich and a water bottle from her red-and-white damask bag, and carefully arranged them on the bench. But as she began to read, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

image: DeniseCox