A Story About A Rose

Chapter One
Lenny sat down at his wooden desk he had just purchased from IKEA, his blue eyes intent on his MacBook Air laptop screen. He tapped his ready to type pointer finger to the right of the laptop, avoiding clicking any keys. He looked at the screen feeling nothing but mal-content, and a splitting headache that was common when he stared at the bright lights of a computer screen for too long. He put his hands over his eyes, and rested his elbows on the table as he let out a slow exhale.
He was an average man with strawberry blonde hair that he wore short and pushed to the side in the front. When he would get frustrated he had a habit of running his hands through his hair and making it messy. His hair was very messy.
It used to be easy for him. He wrote what his boss told him, and he was good at it. Since that time he had branched off and writes under his own command, which is something he thought would be fulfilling, but instead he is only frustrated, and has been for the past 14 some-odd months. He used to write in a suit and tie, but now his old ‘Bogota Track and Field’ shirt and black sweatpants were appropriate.
Lenny looked to the right of his tapping finger at the yellow marigold flower in a small mason jar that his Fiancé had put there. Marigolds were her favorite, and when Lenny saw them he would think of his appreciation for her. In his past corporate life she had always been waiting for him at home with a cooked meal, usually something simple like ham and potatoes. Lenny did not love this simplicity, but she was beautiful and he believed she tried her best to give him what he desired, she just had a weak stomach, so things had to remain simple with her. He appreciated that she would be there for him though.
He believed she appreciated him more when he was working for Goldman Sachs. He could tell she was not happy with their recent move from the east-village studio apartment to this new run down apartment in Brooklyn Heights, but it was all Lenny could afford since he broke off too his new career.
The flower reminded Lenny of his Fiancé. The red innards of the petals are outlined by a golden yellow color, which resembled his Fiancé’s beautiful blonde hair and her fiery personality on the inside. She wore her hair straight down most days, though Lenny preferred curls, which she surprised him with on occasion. Those occasions have been less and less often as their relationship grew. They are now together for 7 years, the first 6 Lenny worked as a corporate lawyer for Goldman Sachs. When people would ask him about his duties there he would tell them this analogy; “You know when a toilet gets flooded with shit and toilet paper. And then the next person goes in and shits on top of it again, well I am the guy who has to go and clean up that mess.”
Lenny thought about returning to work, as his soon to be bride has been begging him to do ever since he left. He is trying to achieve something greater though. He is trying to do something for himself, to make him happy. The words on the screen in front of him were the words of the book he had been working on ever since leaving the firm, and all those 14 months of brainstorming and creative thinking since he left the firm had resulted in the 20 pages in front of him.
Lenny lifted up his head from his hands and muttered, “damn”, and shut his laptop. He looked straight ahead out the window in front of his desk at the brick wall that was the next building over. He rose from the cold gray metal folding chair he was sitting in and turned around and looked at the rest of the room. Virtually everything was still in their boxes. The living room was about 10 feet by 20 feet, to his immediate left was a small bathroom that barely fit a toilet, shower and sink and to his right was an opening in the wall that was just as small as the bathroom. It had a small black mini-fridge and above it a counter with a microwave. To the right was a small stove top with no oven. It was an electrical stove that was barely able to heat up enough to boil water.
This sounds like a bleak home, but Lenny actually liked it. He wanted to live ‘like a writer’; he was tired of the greed of the corporate world. He could have probably afforded a nicer place in a nicer neighborhood but chose this because he thought it would help in the creative process. Of course, if he had his choice, he would be moving somewhere oceans away, but his fiancé was adamant about staying in her beloved New York. The last three days, which were their first three days in this apartment had not given Lenny any added bit of inspiration, but he remained positive, and truly believed this new atmosphere would help in his endeavor to create a piece of art.
About 10 feet up the wall on the right hand side was the entrance door. He heard foot steps draw nearer to it, and then the sound of keys rattling. The door opened a half-inch but got jammed, as it has on numerous occasions already. He heard his fiancé’s voice, “god damned…door…argh”, and she pushed it open and walked in completely out of breath, probably from the four-story climb up to their apartment. She dropped her large shopping bag on the floor and turned over to Lenny. She was wearing her usual large Gucci sunglasses, a small brown leather jacket, a pair of black jeans that were intentionally ripped at the knees and thigh level, and black boots that went three quarters of the way up her shin. She looked at him with an aggravated look. Lenny just smiled at her in return.
“What’chya doing?” She asked, taking off her glasses.
“I was writing, but-uh, then I decided to take a break and unpack a bit.” She looked at both sides of the room, at the boxes that filled their living space.
She circled back to Lenny, “Looks like you didn’t get very far.”
Lenny smiled. He knew she had been on edge for a while after the move, and he had been tiptoeing around her, trying not to anger her since. Well, he really had been tiptoeing ever since he left the firm. He wished she would want to read his writing, but she never expressed any interest in it, so he thought it better not to ask.
She looked back at the boxes on the floor, “Well, I guess we will start tomorrow. I have a surprised planned for you in an hour so we have to get ready.”
Lenny tilted his head as she picked up her bag and walked into their bedroom, which was parallel to the door she entered through. “What- what surprise?”
She spoke from their bedroom as Lenny started walking towards it, stepping over a few boxes along the way. “Don’t worry it’s nothing huge. Just something I think you’ll like.”
Lenny wore a huge grin as he entered the bedroom, which as about eight by ten feet. His Fiancé sat on the bed and began to take off her boots. The bedroom was the only room they had set up. They had a queen-sized bed, a coffee table to the left of it and a sliding door closet that doubled as a mirror on the wall to the left of that. On the other side of the bed, resting against the wall, they had a wooden dresser with 4 drawers and in front of the bed was a television propped up on the wall. He sat next to her. He looked as she moved on to her second boot and then hugged her and brought her down to the bed where he kissed her repeatedly on the face. She fought back and giggled at the barrage of kisses hitting her in the face, but then finally kissed him back.

*
“Beep! Beep! Aye, you ever heard of a blinker!”
Lenny heard the chaos that was New York City as he emerged from the 33 Street and Park Ave subway station. It was March, and this night was warm enough to only need a light sweater. Lenny did just that. He wore a plain gray, cotton sweater over a blue and white striped Ralph Lauren collared button up. The only instructions he received about how to dress for his surprise were, ‘to look nice’, so he went with business casual. He also wore his light brown, straight Kaki pants, and his swayed Anton Grey shoes, which were blue on the top and had a white brim at the bottom. His Fiancé wore a see-through black blouse with a white tank top underneath, and covered that with her brown leather jacket. She had on blue jeans and black high heals, which seemed impossible to walk in.
As they turned left off of Park Ave and on to 34th street, Lenny asked her, “You think you would ever leave the city?”
She looked at him with a sincere expression, “Len, why do we have to have this conversation again?”
Lenny had to ask. He truly believed that going to a different place would give him the inspiration he needs to write a good story. He was tired of New York. “I’m just saying, I feel like moving to a different place might help.”
“I know you think that Len, but we can’t just uproot what we have going on here.” She responded. “If you are blocked, why don’t you just go back to what you do best?”
Lenny chose to ignore the later half of her statement, “I feel like we already kind of did that though, what harm would another move be?”
She looked forward as Lenny tried to make eye contact with her. He walked with his hands in his pants pockets, sensing he had stepped a bit to far. He took a deep breath and looked at the ‘Baskin Robins’ across the street, and then his eyes looked above at the night skylines of the huge buildings he had become so accustomed to seeing. They all blended in to him. They were bland and bulky, and carried no artistic value. How is a man supposed to create in a place like this?
She finally broke the silence as they neared Madison Avenue, “I mean, think about it Len, you are telling me you really believe that moving somewhere else is going to change anything.”
Lenny looked at her as though she should have known the answer to that question; he shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe… I just feel like there isn’t much here, its just skyscrapers and homeless people. One is ugly and the other makes me feel guilty. It is not exactly inspirational.”
They crossed Madison Avenue, and then crossed right to the sidewalk opposite the side they had been walking on and continued down 34th Street toward 5th Avenue.
“Lenny, there are homeless people all over the world, and skyscrapers are beautiful.” She sounded frustrated as she went on, “Maybe inspiration is not something you can just find. It’s got to be…” She acted as though she were rethinking her words, “…you just don’t…” she stopped talking not knowing how to end that sentence without upsetting him.
“I just don’t what?” He asked.
“Nevermind.”
“No,” He stopped walking and grabbed her shoulder, “I don’t what?”
“I don’t know Len,” she looked side-to-side, avoiding eye contact, but Lenny was unwavering. “You were really good at what you did before… and maybe you just aren’t that good at this.” Lenny’s heart sank. He knew he had been struggling, but he thought maybe if he really showed his devotion to this, eventually she would be supportive of him.
Lenny spoke quiet and seriously, “You really think so?”
She stepped closer to him and put her right hand on his cheek. “Len, I love you.”
“I love you too,” he was still quiet and serious. He has said those words so many times. He used to feel excitement when he said them, but now he doesn’t seem to feel any emotion at all. He remembered the first time he told her. It was in the ‘Ramble’ of Central Park. He waited until he got deep into the secluded forest. When he felt he had reached the right spot he stopped her, held her hands, looked her in the eyes and passionately told her that he loved her. He remembered her inability to speak to him in return, but more than that he remembered the warmth he felt when he imagined their future together.
He also remembered the list of reasons why he loved her, which he told her that day. Right now, however, he could not think of those reasons.
“I want to raise a family with you. That’s all I’m thinking about.” She finally broke their silence. “If we were younger then I definitely would’ve been behind you with this. But we have to think about our future.” She moved closer, directly under his face. Lenny looked at her, right then he saw the fire inside her. Something he had always believed to be a good thing. This time her fire made him sad. The heat of her fire could not help him; he felt cold and nothing else.
He fought off the emotions, or the lack there of, and began to think about how she had planned a surprise for him. He tried to see it from her point of view. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was not good enough. Maybe he should just go back to work at Goldman Sachs, and stop this non-sense. Then he looked down again, and closed his eyes. He had a deep desire to do this, to get something published that was his. He had actually written a letter in high school to his future 25-year-old self. When he received it in the mail two years earlier he read a line that said, “If you haven’t gotten anything published yet, stop making excuses and do it!” He almost cried when he read that. He was distraught about how he had let himself down. He had given up and sold out, so he quit his job.
It used to be easy to write. In high school he wrote poem after poem. He even wrote a short story, perfectly rhyming every line with the next, about an Irish family in the potato famine. His lack of creativity in the past 10 or so years has stolen that skill from him, and he regrets ever stopping. But that is what happens when you grow up, especially when you have a Fiancé who does not support you.
If it were only his decision, it would be a no brainer. He would continue working on this until it was complete. If in the end it was still lousy, then at least he tried his best, but it was not only his decision. He felt that in actuality it was not his decision at all.
He felt her put her left hand on his right arm, then her lips touched his, something he had become so accustomed to. Still he was cold. “C’mon, we are late.” She pulled him urging him to continue walking. Lenny followed, extremely disheartened.
*
It was nearing 7:30 p.m. as they sped down 36th Avenue. Lenny continued to argue his case as he seemed incapable of letting this go. “Imagine a whole summer in Paris… Maybe not the whole summer, maybe just a month. Oh that would be great.” Even just talking about it put him in a better mood.
She remained quiet as he went on about his dreams, but as they neared their destination, she finally spoke, “With what money Len?”
“We still have a little saved up. We could afford it.”
She stopped him underneath a covering that extended from the massive building they were walking by. “Okay, whatever. Can we stop talking about this for one second?” Lenny nodded, remembering that she had gone through this trouble tonight for him. “Good, cause we’re here!” She said excitedly as she pointed at the two wooden doors in front of them.
“Oh…” Lenny looked closely at the doors, then across the street, and then at his Fiancé, “Wow…”
“I know right!” She obviously did not pick up on his cluelessness. “Ken’s Steakhouse! You loved it last time we went here.”
Lenny spoke as though it clicked in his head, “Oh! Yeah, oh man. They have the best steak.” He still had no idea this place even existed.
She stepped forward, grabbed the golden door handle and opened it, “Go ahead,” she said with a huge smile on her face. Lenny responded with a smile of his own, though his was fictitious, and he walked through the doors.
Deja Vu consumed him. He remembered this place, and thought he had walked through those doors once before. He stepped forward into the lavish restaurant and the hostess greeted him.
“Good evening sir,” the young lady said to him, “Do you have a reservation?”
“Uh- I…” His Fiancé stepped in front of him and cut him off.
“Yes, it should be under Gulliver.”
His Fiancé spoke to the hostess and then the hostess asked them to follow her to their table. Lenny did not hear any of the conversation they were having. He felt sick to his stomach all of the sudden. He could not remember why he had been here before, but he knew he was here once. They walked by a few round tables at the front of the restaurant where people were sitting quietly, some in tuxedos and ball gowns. Each table was set with a ‘Show Plate’, shiny silverware, a champagne glass in front of a water glass, and a white wine glass to the right of them, forming a triangular shape. On top of each show plate was a napkin folded neatly into a rectangle with a pocket, and in that pocket was a small menu, written in exquisite cursive lettering.
They continued to go farther into the rustic restaurant. There were beautiful, decorative, artworks hanging on the walls of the thin but long restaurant. The wooden walls and dim yellow lighting made for a calm and pleasant atmosphere. He found the restaurant to be aesthetically pleasing but still could not evade this sickly feeling. Finally they reached their table. A large man, about 6 feet 5 inches, with short white hair, thick black eye brows and bags under his eyes stood up, followed by the petite blonde woman sitting next to him. It was his soon to be in-laws, and perhaps the last person he would ever want to be waiting to surprise him was his future father in law.
“Lenny,” his future father in-law said with a counterfeit smile, a smile reminiscent of a smile a really bad politician would wear, “How are ya?” His voice was quite deep and nasally, which makes Lenny want to put in earplugs when he speaks.
Finally it dawned on him. He had been here before. This was the place where he had accepted the offer to work with his Fiancé’s father at Goldman Sachs. That was a day that he had regretted tremendously. It was the day he had given up on himself. He had repressed the thoughts because they were so hard to bear, but now they are resurfacing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gulliver! What a surprise!” He developed good lying skills while working at his firm, but that was not a skill Lenny ever wanted to acquire.
He hugged his future mother-in law after shaking Mr. Gulliver’s hand and sat down, he and his Fiancé opposite the side the in-laws were sitting. Lenny looked up at the wall just passed their heads and saw the Starry Night painting by Vincent Van Gogh.
“Good choice to sit here. We are next to one of the greatest paintings ever.” Lenny said pointing at it.
Everybody turned and looked at the Van Gogh piece. Mr. Gulliver said, “That… I could’ve done that when I was six years old by accident.” Lenny, as usual when dealing with his former boss pretended it was a funny comment.
“I guess if you are a talented six year old then yes.” He looked at his Fiancé expecting her to laugh. She did not. He looked back across at the table. Mr. Gulliver stared at him, squinting his eyes and sipping some champagne. The moment was quiet, and awkward. Finally the waiter came to the table with champagne, and Lenny said to himself, “oh thank god.” Lenny lifted his cup to give the waiter a better angle. He was going to need the help of champagne if he was going to get through this dinner.
*
The dull atmosphere was relentless. Lenny felt himself becoming less creative just by sitting in Mr. Gulliver’s presence. Mr. Gulliver always played nice when his daughter was around. She had no idea what had gone on at work, how terribly he treated Lenny.
As Lenny cut into his 16-ounce fillet mignon he asked his fiancé, “So, what’s the occasion?”
“Occasion?” She responded, raising her right eyebrow.
“Yeah. I mean, my birthday is in July, it’s only March. It’s way passed Christmas and our anniversary. What’s going on?”
She swallowed a heaping of steak, drank some wine and responded, “No reason. Just thought you deserved one.” She smiled at him.
“That’s so sweet.” He was really impressed. She never planned surprises for him, especially without a reason. He looked at her parents, “and thank you guys for coming.”
Mrs. Gulliver smiled and replied, “Of course, dear,” in her usual proper manner.
At that moment, Mr. Gulliver put down his fork and knife and asked, “So, Len, how’s the writing going?”
Lenny knew that question was coming, and was actually shocked at how long it took for him to ask. “Well, truth be told, I’ve actually hit a bit of a writers block,” he motioned to his Fiancé, “we were actually discussing ways we could-ah- over come it…”
His Fiancé interjected, “Oh! No. YOU were discussing ways to overcome it.” Lenny looked at her, in painful disbelief. Again here fire came about. Again it made Lenny feel cold. Mr. Gulliver stared at him, waiting to see his response.
“Um… Well, we were discussing maybe moving outside the city.” His Fiancé took a deep breath as she folded her arms in protest. Lenny continued, “I just, I don’t feel inspired here. New York City is… it’s boring.”
“Inspiration?” Mr. Gulliver responded. “Where are you going to go outside of New York for inspiration?” He seemed irritated at the mere thought of Lenny’s proposal.
“You know, Mr. Gulliver, I know you won’t agree but I really think it would make a difference for me.”
“I will never understand you Len.” Mr. Gulliver was now in his corporate, bloodsucking mindset. He spoke with fierceness in his words. “You want inspiration Len! You had it.” He held out his hand in front of Lenny, placed his thumb on his pointer finger and rubbed them together. “You gave it up.”
Lenny paused and looked at the evil man in front of him. Lenny has taken insults from him for so long. He thought if he quit Mr. Gulliver would not have a reason to demean him. Yet here he is, as if nothing had changed.
In the past Lenny would take it and repress it, but not today. Lenny took a sip of wine and organized his words. Then he said very slowly and pronounced, “That is not inspiration to me.”
Mr. Gulliver fixated on Lenny; his eyes were open with rage. Only the slightest comment could set off the bomb that was Mr. Gulliver. Mrs. Gulliver put a hand on her husband’s shoulder and pleaded, “Honey, just calm down.”
“Calm down! My daughter is about to marry a fag!”
“Oh no daddy, not a fag.” Lenny’s Fiancé responded.
“Thank you.” Lenny misunderstood her to be defending him.
She progressed with her thought. “No daddy, he is even gayer then that.” She started laughing along with her father as she took a sip of wine.
“Wh-what? How is this- what makes this gay?”
His Fiancé began to mock him, “Oh, come on, let’s move to Paris for a summer. Let’s live like an artist… blah blah blah.” Her father was now laughing uncontrollably. Lenny sat straight faced, looking down at his food. He was colder then ever.
Mr. Gulliver sat back as he gulped down some wine. “Lenny, explain yourself. You gave up a real lucrative job. A job with stability, to live like a poor person. Why? You gone crazy on us?”
Lenny swallowed nervously and then responded, “I don’t know… That’s all artificial. Its fake happiness.”
“What the fuck Len? You think being rich and happy is artificial? Look at me, I am proof, it isn’t fake. Do you think I’m artificial?”
Lenny believed in every inch of his being that Mr. Gulliver was as artificial as it gets. How could a man who regularly ruins his employee’s days be happy? It is just not possible, but he decided to go with a safe response as Mr. Gulliver was fuming. “No, I don’t think you’re artificial.”
“Then explain yourself Len. Why did you give it up?” Mr. Gulliver asked.
Lenny looked at his former boss, then to his former boss’s wife, and then to his own Fiancé. They were all looking at Lenny waiting for his response. Lenny decided to seize the moment. If he said how he felt then maybe they would understand. Lenny spoke with his heart.
“I just, I just want happiness you know. I feel joy when I write. Poetry. Stories, it doesn’t matter. When I put my words together in a sequence perfectly arranged, perfectly set up, I get this real feeling of worth.” He paused and noticed that they were actually listening, so he continued. “The greatest people of all time lived eternally through their works. I don’t need eternal life or anything; I just want to write something that matters, even if it is just to one person. If I could write something that speaks to just one person, that would be enough.”
He pointed to the Van Gogh painting behind the Gulliver’s heads. “Van Gogh had his Starry Night. Shakespeare found his Romeo and Juliet. I need to find my thing, my inspiration. And then turn that inspiration into art. And I don’t believe that inspiration is here in New York.”
Lenny looked to his right and saw his Fiancé looking down at her plate with an expression of contemplation. Did he actually get through to her? He looked at Mrs. Gulliver who was smiling at him, and he smiled in return. Then he looked at Mr. Gulliver who was leaned back in his chair, his arms folded, staring at Lenny.
As Lenny considered the chances of them actually understanding him, Mr. Gulliver spoke, “Too bad you’re not a fucking artist.” Lenny swallowed his rage. His Fiancé looked at Lenny, who for the first time in their relationship also had fire in his eyes. His nausea turned to anger. His hands were sweaty from the adrenaline searing through his veins. His cheeks turned red as he looked off in another direction. Though he was angry, it was nice to feel something other than the cold that had consumed he recently. He had forgotten what warmth felt like. Then Mr. Gulliver spoke again as he dug back into his food, “On a serious note Lenny. Whenever you are done with this I will have a position available for you.”
Lenny’s adrenaline surfaced and for the first time in a long time he did not choose the words he was going to say, “No! I already told you, I don’t want to be some corporate sellout!” He looked at his Fiancé who still had not come to his defense. “I was miserable the whole time.”
Mr. Gulliver pointed his fork at Lenny and raised his voice, “Hey! Len, watch the way you talk to me, eh?”
Mrs. Gulliver tried to calm her husband down, “Relax sweetie, he just needs more time.”
“I hope time is all he needs,” his Fiancé added.
Lenny’s heart was racing. How could this woman, who he will be marrying in only a few short months, still not understand him? How could she still not support him! Why is it him that needs to go work and she gets to go shopping with the money that he earns! “No, I don’t need time.” He directed himself to his Fiancé and spoke in a hushed exclamation. “I am doing what I want to do. Why can’t you understand that?”
“Okay Len, but eventually you have to grow up!” She replied.
Those words imprinted into Lenny’s brain. He began to think about why his Fiancé had spontaneously surprised him with this dinner. Was it to convince him to go back to the firm? At that moment Lenny made a decision. He lifted his napkin from his lap and folded it next to his half-eaten plate of food. “Okay. I’ll be going now.”
As Lenny stood up and pushed his chair in his Fiancé grabbed him by the forearm, she spoke with her teeth clenched, “Lenny, sit down. You are being rude.”
“I’m being rude are you serious…”
Mr. Gulliver cut him off sarcastically, “Oh no, Lenny don’t leave.” Mrs. Gulliver smacked him on the arm as he continued to eat his food.
Lenny then spoke to Mrs. Gulliver, the only person at the table that had always been nice to him, “I’m sorry. I just can’t be at a table with him.”
Lenny began to walk away as Mr. Gulliver realized the last comment was geared towards him. “Hey Lenny! Up yours!”
Lenny turned around to see Mr. Gulliver raising his right hand and propping up his middle finger. Lenny continued out the door as his Fiancé took pursuit.
*
Lenny stormed out onto 36th Street. He turned left and took a few steps towards 6th Avenue as his Fiancé made it out of the restaurant and called to him.
“Lenny, stop please!”
Lenny grudgingly turned around. They stood toe to toe in silence for a moment, Lenny decided to speak first, “You didn’t stick up for me. Not even for a second.”
She put her arms up in the air as if to signify she was stumped, “Well, what would you like me to do Len?”
“I want you to support me!”
She hesitated, put her hands on her hips and scrunched her lips together as she tried to think of a response. “You want me to support this silly little dream?” She looked at Lenny and took his lack of a response and his bewildered facial expression as a yes. “Okay! Fine! I support you Lenny. Now what?”
“What do you mean?
“Where are you going with this?” Lenny stayed quiet as she proceeded to explain herself. “I have gotten accustomed to a certain kind of life style. I don’t think I want to live without that lifestyle and we are at an age now where we are starting to think about kids, and a family. I want that kind of life. And I don’t want to bring kids into a world where their parents can’t provide for them.” She looked at him, with her eyes intent.
He noticed she was waiting for a response so Lenny decided to tell her how he felt. “I am not ready for that.” She looked at him and then down to the ground. Lenny moved forward in an attempt to embrace her. She did not adjust her position.
Lenny wondered what was wrong with him. He wanted to cry, he knew that would be a suitable response to this situation, but he could not. He held her body close to his, and felt her eye-lashes flutter about his neck, “but all we need is each other right?”
She pushed him away and looked up at him as the brisk air froze the wet spot on his neck. “I need more than that Lenny.”
Lenny watched as she walked back inside. He did not know where to go. He looked up 36th Street towards 5th Avenue and contemplated going home. Then he turned and walked in the opposite direction toward 6th Avenue.
He stood on the corner of 6th and 36th in between a black traffic pole and a garbage can. He looked across the street at the ‘Jean Pierre’ hair salon and up at the hideous brick building that towered over it. He looked to the right, across the street, and saw a building with columns in the front. The building tried to replicate ancient Roman style, and probably succeeded. It was soiled, however, but the plain ugly buildings surrounding it.
He looked to the left, towards 35th Street and saw a homeless man with a long gray beard sitting up against a McDonalds window. He looked to the right towards 37th Street and saw much of the same. He heard cars honking, bicyclists ring by, people laughing and talking, and then he closed his eyes and cancelled it all out. He pondered where his next move was going to take him. He stood at the corner, enjoying the peacefulness of his solitude. Then he opened his eyes, and directly in front of him, stopped at the traffic light was a taxi. On top of the taxi was a top light. On the Top Light was an advertisement for Broadway’s ‘Beauty and the Beast’. The image was a white outline of the Beast’s face on a purple backdrop and a red rose in front of the Beast’s mouth. The rose was pointing towards 37th Street.
“You got it Mr. Beast.” Lenny began to walk towards 37th Street.