The children's section

When I first moved to New York, I discovered that my new neighborhood, Yorkville, was the part of town where Harriet the Spy, one of my favorite books, was set.

One day when I had nothing else to do (since I wasn't working yet,) I went to the local branch library to see if they had a copy. They did, so I plopped right down in the children's section to re-read it. As I sat there absorbed in the book, in my sweatpants, windbreaker and baseball cap, wedged into one of the small-scale chairs, I heard something. It was a mother, stage-whispering to her child, who was looking at me. "Don't stare," she hissed. "He's special."