There is a line around the corner for the world’s smallest Dunkin Donuts. The people in it are 9-5ers quietly engaged in their own world of iPhones and Kindles while they wait their turn for lattes and muffins.
Across a narrow side walk, a man with long gray dreadlocks sits on a piece of cardboard, resting his head against the faded blue fire hydrant. A tall, thick man, dressed in khakis and a butt on down shirt for his day in the office, speaks to him, as an iced coffee sweats in his hand.
“Man,” he says with a deep laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been as drunk as you are right now.”
The man on the ground smiles and claps his hands in joy.