New York, I Love You | 2009
Pardon. Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.
Um, it is. It must have fallen out of my bag.
It was on the floor near the bathroom.
That was really nice of you. How can I thank you?
I wouldn't mind if you bought me a drink.
Great. What would you like?
Whatever you're having. Two gin and tonics, no ice.
Losing your cell phone's like losing your mind.
Do you come here a lot?
I do. A lot. Too much.
I've got a ton of time.
I only saw my dad once in my whole life,
When my mom was pregnant with me,
she never told him.
Just left him.
Growing up, she had a lot of boyfriends.
Went through one after another.
Always left them.
Every time she'd leave a man, though,
she'd keep something, like a souvenir.
Maybe a book or a necklace or a painting.
When she left my dad, she kept me.
I was her souvenir.
Before she died, she gave me a piece of paper
with his name and number on it.
I called him up, and we met here.
I said one thing to him.
What did you say?
"I'm a gift for you, from Mom."
I walk past your flower room every day.
I see you, but I say nothing.
I'm so afraid to look at you. Oh, girl.
You say I'm the strongest. I say you're the kindest.