I’m walking down the street ten feet or so behind a young couple, he in slim pants and wool topcoat, she in fur jacket and even slimmer pants. Expensive haircuts, and she’s carrying a Kate Spade bag. She’s smoking. They stop at the light. A scruffy guy steps out. “Hey, can I buy a cigarette off you? Come on, I’ll give you a dollar.” “Nah,” she says, recoiling as he reaches into his greasy pants pocket. “I’ll just give you one.” She does. I’m behind them as the light changes. The scruffy guy, drawing deeply on his smoke, walks past me. He smiles and winks. And I think, damn, if you pick your mark carefully I’ll bet that works every time.
I love New York.
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