I still had a few minutes before I had to go in. Even with a sunny cloudless sky, it was a chilly October morning in New York City. In front of the Central Plaza Hotel, people were moving through the huge bronze and glass doors, their eyes straight ahead, focused on the invisible task of the day.
I looked at my watch. Ten after eight. Hansom cabs lined up, waiting for people with the time for a brisk trot through the park. Autumn in New York. A cab's busiest time of the year. Odd to think, at thirty-eight, born and raised in the city, I'd never taken a Hansom cab.
The crowds hustling past me brought on a wave of self-consciousness. Was I just another executive, no-divorced executive, on his way to work? It was official, I had lost a lot: wife, money, confidence. I watched people rush by in their suits, briefcases in hand, hurrying to get to their desks. I'm not like them. My face isn't familiar, but my name is a legend here. My name. Actually my father's name.
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