It was a pleasantly warm summer day in Ithaca. The leafy shadows of trees were playing mirages on the bare walls in the Commons. By the benches and carefully planted trees, people walked in packs, twos, ones. Not surprisingly, the kids were making most of the din, if you discounted the noisy and flippant wind.
On a green bench, X was fidgeting with his phone and looking on at the play of shadows, probably waiting for a text. The urchin accosted him out of nowhere. Scraggly looking, with a toothy grin and lanky arms, he asked for fifty-five cents, the amount he needed for a bus ticket. X smiled and, while fishing for the wallet, pulled a 1000 Korean currency note that he had. The kid looked at it fascinated and loudly proclaimed never seeing anything like that. They both concured together in grins and smiles. X had no change, only a ten dollar bill. The urchin, a momentary shake of the head later, bounced along.
As X watched the urchin run, trying to catch up to a kind man, the wind lifted him up in the air in a smooth swoosh. Soon he was flying over the Ithacans with two angel wings, but no halo oddly.
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