Every morning, as he takes his position there, the sea of dull-suit-wearing, hat-donning employees floods the overbridge connecting the rows of dreary looking, tall office buildings on either side of 61st street. He sits with his back reclined against the wire mesh that lines the sides of the overbridge.
Every other moment or so, a faceless man walks by, looking down. As the man passes him sitting there, he lifts his hat a little to take a look. Ensures that there's no sign of hope, and moves on. There are many of these men, and they maintain a constant line of check. Highly coordinated, they are quite efficient.
On the odd occassion when they do see some sign of hope, like perhaps a smile while he looks upward or into the distance in some future, the one passing by breaks his line of walk, walks toward him, and slaps him in the face. Smack.
This usually tends to stop the smiling.
Today, as he sits there, his sees her across the wire mesh opposite to him, down in the street, just as she comes out of a building. His eyes follow her as she walks towards the stairs leading up to the overbridge. As she walks that way, she goes out of sight. He hopes she would climb the stairs to the overbridge.
As he sits there waiting, he sees her across the bridge on his left, in the sea of dull-suit-wearing employees. She is quite prominent in her differently colored suit.
A minute later, she stands oppposite him, both of them looking at each other. One of the faceless men walking by, breaks his line of walk, walks toward him, and slaps him in the face. Smack.
She stands there still, he sits there still, smiling still. Another man, another slap.
He still doesn't stop.
Faceless men realize this is a special situation. Three of them convene at the end of the overbridge on his right. And as one of them remains standing there, waiting for his cue, two of them walk in, grab the girl by her wrists and take her away- she walking between them.
The third guy now moves in, lifts his hat to ensure he isn't still smiling and walks past.
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