“Hey man can I have a dollar?” The hobo said.
John Smith, a successful businessman, wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked hurriedly between Broadway and Sixth Street, ignoring the beggar altogether. The hot summer sun beat down and glinted off his shiny top hat, and he removed his dinner jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and revealing the plaid button down underneath. Suddenly, a few things happened all at once: a strong gust of wind blew his hat off, a silver SUV drove by, spraying muddy water all over him, and an apathetic passerby with large work boots stepped on and scuffed his immaculate black shoes, rendering them unrecognizable. In all the confusion, his dinner jacket was swiped by a running man. And as he sat down in all his misery, a muddy, defeated man, someone passing by said:
“Hey man want a dollar?”