By the time I finished my shift, my feet were killing me but I was jittery from the three iced coffees I downed during the eight hours I worked. Val stayed on, picking up a few extra hours so one of our coworkers could go home early, and she shooed me out of the store when I volunteered to wait for her.

"Go enjoy your orchestra," she urged me, untying my apron and pushing my keys into my palm. "Be careful. I don't like you staying in the park at night by yourself."

I nodded, "I'm always careful."

"Right," she snorted, lifting the two dollars sticking out of my back pocket and waving it in front of my face. "Because you would've noticed if I'd taken this."

"Yes!" I snatched it back, stuffing the wadded up bills back in my pocket. "That's my food money."

Val laughed, shaking her head, "You and those damn hot dogs."

I grinned and lifted the apron over my head, hanging it on a hook in the breakroom. I was working the next morning at 5AM, so I didn't want to worry about remembering it in my sleep-deprived haze.

After saying goodbye to the rest of my coworkers, I headed out the coffee shop toward the nearest subway station. It was rush hour - 5PM on a Monday - meaning the trains were bound to be packed. Luckily, most commuters were heading home from Manhattan to the outer boroughs instead of vice versa, so I wouldn't be slammed with too many sweaty bodies.

I shoved my earbuds in, plugging the cord into my iPhone, and opened Spotify as I navigated the busy street. Clicking through my playlists, I decided to go contemporary instead of classical so I could properly savor the orchestra in the park tonight. Not that there's such a thing as too much classical music (there's not, if you were wondering), but I haven't listened to any since this morning. You know what they say, right? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. In this case, it's completely true.

I don't really know when I fell in love with classical music. It wasn't like my parents played Mozart for me when I was in my mother's womb or anything like that, but I just heard it and knew it was for me. It's so intricate yet powerful, and it continually baffles me that people - human beings like you and me - create this stuff with their bare hands. And mouths.

That sounded really awkward, but I didn't mean it like that.

I'm not one of those purists though. There are some people who hate artists who create all of their music electronically, musicians who can't actually play an instrument. It's a shame, yeah, because I actually enjoy the human element, but it's still music. It's still difficult to compose, emotionally compelling, and beautiful.

I love the rawness of live music, especially with the orchestra. I crave the feeling you get when your emotions are pulled back and forth along the strings of a violin, the swelling of a crescendo pushing you further, further, further...only to have it shatter in the blink of an eye. My favorite music relaxes me, invigorates me, saddens me, and comforts me all at once. That complexity is unlike anything else I've ever experienced. Sure, art draws out your emotions. Books and paintings - they're powerful too - but there's nothing like closing your eyes to the sound of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 in D Minor and being drug through all four movements by sheer force of sound.

Today, I went for something completely opposite but just as compelling. Switching from a mix playlist, I opened up a compilation of The Chainsmokers' original music and remixes. The tempo was perfect for the warmth of the New York City evening as I stepped into the subway, swiping my MetroCard, and rushing to jump on the arriving train.

It was a forty-five minute trip into Manhattan on the Q train, so I completely zoned out to the music flooding my brain. I tried to make the trip into the city as much as possible, and I spent a lot of time people watching. I've only been in New York for five months, but sometimes it feels like five days. With a city that is constantly growing and changing, it's impossible to learn everything there is to know about it. Instead, I spent my time appreciating everything I saw and even revisited my favorites.

Prospect Park was my favorite place to go running, but Central Park definitely owned my heart. A green oasis in the middle of the city, I actually enjoyed the madness inside. Sure, it could be incredibly touristy at times and swarmed with people, but you can almost always find a tiny piece of the park to enjoy your own peace and quiet at any given time. There are tons of other parks in New York City, and I am definitely on a mission to visit them all, but Central Park will forever be my first love.

I could feel my excitement increasing as I got closer to the park, and I was grinning like an idiot when I stepped off the subway. Music blaring in my headphones, I exited at Fifth Avenue and 59th Street and headed toward the corner of the park. My favorite hot dog vender, Amir, was parked at 59th across from the Plaza, and my mouth watered as I rushed toward him.

Only fifteen minutes left until the start of the concert, and it would take nearly that much time to walk to Naumburg Bandshell, so I rubbed my arms anxiously as I stepped in line behind two others. Tapping my hand on my arm, I swayed along with the music as the next customer stepped up in front of me so only one person was left between me and my dinner.

Before you ask, no, I don't subsist off hot dogs alone. One, that's not a very balanced meal, and two, I really really like food. However, I make a point to get a $2 hot dog from Amir at least once a week, and I would eat my weight in microwave popcorn when I got home anyway. It was my ritual, and I tried to make up for it by eating at least some vegetables the other six days of the week.

Pulling out one earbud, I smiled widely as the suit-clad man in front of me stepped aside, hot dog in hand, clearing my path to Amir.

"Hey!" He greeted me warmly then frowned. "Bad news, out of dogs."

"What?" I asked Amir, clutching my heart dramatically. "You're breaking my heart, Amir. How can you run out of hot dogs? You've got one job, mi amor!"

He chuckled, "I'm sorry, habibi. I just sold the last one."

"Force me to starve," I teased him, pulling my crumpled two dollar bills out of my pocket and passing them up to him. "I'll just take a water then."

Shaking his head, Amir took the money and passed me my change, which I promptly dropped in the tip jar, before handing me an ice cold bottle of water. It definitely wasn't a hot dog, but I was a loyal customer. Amir had a 9-year-old daughter at home and his wife couldn't work, so I liked to believe that every little bit might help his family stay afloat.

Waving goodbye, I cracked open the bottle and took a swig before stepping aside. Only ten minutes to get to the bandshell, which meant I was probably going to have to jog if I wanted to get there in time.

"You know there are other hot dog vendors, right?"

A voice next to me spoke, and I dropped the earbud I had lifted back to my ear. Turning to face the stranger, I smiled as I realized it was the man who bought Amir's last hot dog. He was dressed in an impeccable suit, tailored perfectly to his tall, muscular frame, and a light sprinkling of facial hair covered his jawline.

"None as good as Amir," I replied to him with a polite smile, lifting my water bottle to signal the end of the conversation.

He grinned, "So you're just...not gonna eat?"

I turned back to him, lifting an eyebrow, "I'll survive for a few hours."

The dark-haired man laughed, glancing at something to his right, before facing me once more.

"Want mine? It's got mustard on it, so if you don't like mustard then, well...offer rescinded," he lifted the hot dog my way, and I shook my head.

"Thanks, but I'm good," I told him. "I'll get another one next week. This one's yours."

The man shrugged, "Your loss, then. This could be the best hot dog Amir has ever made, and you passed it up."

"You're really selling me hard on this hot dog thing," I replied, knitting my eyebrows together. "Should I be worried? Are you trying to drug me?"

"God no!" He blushed slightly. "Besides, your friend Amir can see us. I doubt he'd let me kidnap you or something."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I chewed on my lip before answering, "If that's the best hot dog Amir has ever made, it'd be selfish of me to take it from you. You expect me to deny a stranger his dinner?"

"Nah," the man replies with a laugh. "I'm headed to some fancy party with champagne and caviar. I've got plenty of options for dinner."

"Caviar? Sounds like you definitely need the hot dog then," I teased him.

He paused for a moment, deliberating something quietly, before pulling his other hand out of his pocket and carefully splitting the hot dog in two. A drop of mustard rolled off the top onto his thumb, and he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick it off before smiling at me and offering me the other half.

"It's getting cold," he added, his blue eyes twinkling. "Compromise?"

Rolling my eyes, I accepted the half a hot dog from the stranger and lifted it to my lips. I paused before taking a bite, realizing that he very well could've poisoned it and could kidnap me later when I was walking through the park, and stared at him. He certainly didn't look like the kind of guy who would drug a hot dog, but then again...I wasn't sure what kind of person would drug a hot dog. Was that even a thing?

With his perfectly tailored suit that must've cost a fortune, immaculately styled hair, and ridiculously good looks, I highly doubted he would be out to get me. Still, better safe than sorry.

"You first," I told him, motioning toward his mustard-covered half.

He shrugged, stuffing the whole thing in his mouth, and I laughed. Smiling with his mouth full, he lifted a napkin to wipe his mouth as he chewed the hot dog carefully. It was absolutely ridiculous, the juxtaposition of the designer suit and a messy hot dog, and I couldn't restrain my smile as I devoured my half of the hot dog in two easy bites.

"So?" He asked, crumpling up the napkin and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. "Best hot dog ever?"

"Definitely," I said, covering my mouth with my hand as I finished chewing.

Lifting my water bottle, I took a long drink to wash everything down before returning the lid and smiling. The man smirked, his hands in his pockets, and shook his head slightly.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

"You, uh...you got something on your face," he said, nodding toward me.

Embarrassed, I quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, "Did I get it?"

"Nope," he chuckled. "Wanna try again?"

Running my hand over my mouth again, the man laughed harder - indicating that I was clearly missing whatever was on my face - before taking a step forward and lifting one hand to brush a bit of mustard off the corner of my chin. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, cleaning off the mustard, and I wrinkled my nose.

"That's disgusting," I told him, rubbing my chin again out of habit.

He shrugged, "It's mustard."

"Better than caviar, I guess," I replied, and he nodded.

Taking out his phone, he checked the time and sighed, "Definitely better than caviar."

Speaking of the time, I grabbed my own phone and checked the clock. 5:57 PM. Three minutes until the concert started, which meant I would definitely be late and miss the opening. It wasn't a huge deal, but I wanted to get a good seat, which was pretty much impossible now.

I groaned, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and smiled at the man.

"Late?" He asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Same," he replied, glancing across the street once more.

I followed his gaze, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. 59th was swarmed with cars, and people were rushing around us on their way home from work. Glancing back at him, I took a deep breath before thanking him and saying goodbye, but he spoke first.

"Thanks for sharing the hot dog with me," he said. "I can leave with a clear conscience knowing I didn't deprive you of the best hot dog ever."

I laughed, "I think I should be the one thanking you."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "It was definitely worth meeting a pretty girl."

Blushing, I shook my head as he continued, "I should get going though. It was nice meeting you..."

"Cait," I blurted out, startling myself.

"Cait," he repeated with a smile, taking a step toward the crosswalk. "I'll see you around."

I waved, watching him for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath and walking toward the entrance of the park. The concert would definitely be starting now, but - surprisingly enough - I didn't really mind. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I put in one earbud as I opened Spotify and squeezed past some tourists.

"Hey Cait!"

I turned at the sound of my name, smiling when the dark-haired man jogged up to me.

"Meet me later," he said, breathless. "There's this place a couple of blocks from here that has great food. Let me buy you a proper dinner."