While in the moment of cleaning up a coffee stain. His thoughts of giving ordinary characters, extraordinary lives, shifted.  He rememered the old  lady on the corner of 5th and Park. Street. He rode by this woman every now and then in his shiny black limo. And could not recal her doing anything out of the ordinary.

 She  worked her corner religously.  Like a minister who fondled the big cross around his neck, as though   the thought of doing anything else, a change of any kind, would have him on his knees begging  for forgivness.   She with her dirty fingerless gloved hands, clinging to the handle of  that cart so tightly , you could see the blue of her nuckles.  Her blank expression, filled with nothing but dedication and determination.

He considered maybe this was a story in itself. He straightened out his tie. Checked his watch, grabbing his brief case headed for the door.  Not without laughing at himself first.   And the broken coffee cup that  gave his ego a nice little slap.

After all it was he who had the grand imagination, Not the bag lady.  Maybe the bag lady , just wanted to be a damm bag lady!  Maybe her life was complete , maybe she was quite content.

The thoughts of the red carpet never left him....

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