Where Concrete Daisies Bloom

nally d

on' s expensive mahogany desk, putting a ruthless peri

dom was

n' s TriBeCa penthouse, wielding an old, whimsical sketch o

Isabella' s perfect, glistening fake tears, dismissing

chitectural dreams-designs for community centers-and pouri

at my feet, his voice flat: "Fo

p a tiny hammer pounding home the gut-wrenching humilia

s my dignity and dreams were drowned in wine, then

moment of despair,

ional punching bag; I would disappear and rebuild a life