| “Something has happened to telephone booths in New York. No one knows when it happened, and no one knows what it is that happened, but something has happened.” Thus begins Nora Ephron’s début piece in The New Yorker, the first of almost four decades of contributions that she would make to the magazine. The story places the reader in the middle of a bustling, changing city—one that has always been filled with eavesdroppers and people-watchers. When a woman passes a small hole on East 51st Street, she assumes it is home to some little animals and leaves behind “a piece of Port du Salut cheese, a spoonful of chicken salad, two oatmeal cookies, and a slice of meat loaf.” The list captures Ephron’s quirky style and ardor for food—qualities that would serve her later on in books such as “Heartburn” and films including “When Harry Met Sally.” Ephron’s protagonist here is the city itself, a place where three women come to recognize one another simply by gathering on Second Avenue each day for their morning commute. Ephron infuses their simple connection with intimacy and charm. “They do not know each other, but they have been taking the same bus at the same time for many years now,” she writes, “and they have begun to nod hello.” | 
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