I am the bastard in the ragged suit who spits, with bitterness and malice to all. The high hat gods go down the aisles. I am at one with life.
Some guys go straight from the joblines to the breadlines.
But I had a few pennies left. It was too damn cold to walk around much. There's nothing that appeals more to the ordinary New Yorker, in weather like this, than an unpretentious, busy cafeteria. In the second place, it clicks, and that makes it authentic. So I held the knob just a little longer than was necessary, and the last drop of coffee dribbled into my cup, and the guy behind me was ready to curse with impatience.