So I'm talking to Linus the other day. We're sitting on that bench--you know, the one across from the carousel. Of course, I say "the other day," like it's not always just this day, but you know what I mean. It feels like a while ago.

Anyway, I'm talking to Linus, the one people call The Professor. We go way back. Used to bring his car to my shop in Hartford in the late '90s. Good guy.

He asks me, "Do you know where we are?" As if this hasn't been discussed a thousand times before. As if it's not the one thing on everyone's mind. As if any of us knows for certain.

I play it as cool as I can. I say to him, "They say...well, you know what they say. But I'm no theologian."

"No," he says back to me, "I mean, what's it look like, from before?"

"They tell me it's Central Park," I say, "although I wouldn't know. Never been to New York, myself. Not back then, anyway." I take a moment to admire the cloudless blue sky and all those massive gray towers that cut through it so cleanly. The early autumn wind shuffles crisply through the trees surrounding us, blowing through green leaves that show hints of yellow. Over at the carousel, kids are laughing. The painted horses dance up and down as they spin, just like they always do. That music (in my head, it's just titled "Circus Music") plays on a loop. It's all one big loop, I guess--but it's pleasant enough.

Sorry. Stories are free on our website for a period of time and are moved to Amazon.com. The Amazon kindle app is available for smart phones, computers, tablets, and e-readers.