Just like any other day, he got off the train and began his usual route through the city streets.
It was only a five minute stroll, but he enjoyed it. He would always glance in the menswear shop at the first corner. He liked checking out the fashion. Then came the coffee strip. He never stopped to pick up a takeaway, he preferred what he got from the machine at work. It was the aromas that he liked; it prepared him for what was to come. He turned into a short mall, one of his favourite sections on his walk. There was always something happening halfway down, enough room for a busker to set up to catch the morning crowd. It was often someone with a guitar or a violin. There would be the cap or a container of some kind for coins or notes. He gave most times, just loose change. It always gave him a kick to do it.
He heard no music this time, but saw someone crouched in the usual spot. As he approached he saw that it was a young woman, cradling a baby in her arms. She was dressed in rags and the child looked filthy. There was a plastic pot with a hand-written card propped against it asking for money so that the deserted woman could feed her baby. As he slowed, he felt in his pocket and came up with a few coins. He stooped to drop them in. Being a redhead himself, he was struck by the child’s ginger stubble. The woman looked up. As he moved on, she cried out, “Hey! Is that you?”
His pace quickened.
He was going to have to find another way of getting to the office.
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