A woman sighs as she waits on line in the hotel lobby, a driver sits in the all black Cadillac Escalade that she requested with her luggage gracefully placed in the backseat next to her Chihuahua, Coco. Random name brand suits walk up and down the streets and avenues, faceless and emotionless. Black striped or polka doted yellow cabs squeeze between street lines and honk their horns to wake you up as you walk like a Zombie on your way to your 9-5, 8-5, 8-6, 8-8 corporate job. Smell of bacon with eggs and last night’s dinner mixed in, slowly floats through the smokey cigarette breath of the guy walking in front of you. As a 7am jogger hits her shoulder in to your gigantic bag, that you have packed your whole life into, just in case. You’re annoyed to be disturbed but too exhausted to acknowledge it. “Don’t Walk” and “Walk” signs are already enough reading for the morning but you still have a few blocks to go. You were your sneakers on the streets and your Stilettos are actually in the second bag you are carrying. There is steam rising up from the man holes, which literally sounds no different from an ex-boyfriend you once had. Your stomach is growling and you are not sure if it is hunger or if it’s pissed off that you basically just spent 7.95 for a water and a muffin. You grab your Building ID for your office and as you say good morning to the security guy that you see every single day, he pretends he didn’t hear you and you just keep walking towards the elevator, praying that no one else will be joining you.
This is New York City.