He fumbled about his jacket pocket inquisitively raising his eyes and fixing them on an undefined spot in the sky as to not take his focus off his busy fingers. There was a big hole in the pocket which he knew very well, and through the hole he could reach into his jacket’s lining which was in itself a huge pocket filled with lost treasures. He felt some wheat puffs he bought a few months ago; and entertained the thought of trying them. His jacket was regularly hung in a dry place, why wouldn’t the wheat puffs be good, he thought, a pantry or a closet, these are just words. So he pulled one out, only to discover it wasn’t the wheat puff he had hoped for but a seed of some fruit whose name escaped him. He flicked it away and continued to scan for pieces of memory left in his jacket knowing quite well that there was no real happiness in them or in the time they come from, only that at the time, his dreams were more realistic to him. Only a few years ago he really believed his dreams, but now he should be mad to believe anything could be anything like he ever hoped for. At most, he thought, he could spend the remainder of his life free of piercing agony. When he was 4 or so, wheat puffs were the dream itself, not an instigator of a dream, not a reminder of a lost dream, but the object of real desire, the kind that only children can have to things, or sweets. His beloved grandmother would take him in her boney hands, caress his short thick hair and offer him wheat puffs with milk, or without. He opted for without, or he used to say it “with without milk”. Yes, that’s better, he thought, as milk tends to disagree with him, especially when he is in a disagreeable mood. A black Ford Grand Victoria door was slamming besides him and he looked at the plate, like he always does, and it said “Official”. On the dashboard there was a clear sign - NY State Official on Duty. A standard overweight grayed old white man was slamming that door, carrying a pile of files, walking away determinately. How he wanted an Official license plate! And a sign for the dashboard! I could park anywhere, he thought, had he had a car. He always respected public officials and coveted the feeling of authority and entitlement he never had. Over the years, on many occasions, all that separated him from absolute bliss was an NYPD badge, or ever a Park ranger’s ID. When a truck cut him off when he was trying to legally cross the street and threw him to the curb, adding insult to injury by splashing the entire content of an old, stale puddle on his clothes, that though weren’t new, were uncharacteristically clean, he really wanted that badge, the badge that can single handily change the game. Never admitting this fully, he’s always been weak and scared of confrontation, though his temper often got the upper hand and pushed him into positions where his lack of physical strength and his natural fear assembled a deadly combination which usually left him bruised and humiliated. Any official recognition of the establishment could have avoided it. He even considered becoming a teacher, so at least children will be bound to respect him, but that required a college degree which he once vowed to attain as soon as he completes his high school degree. When none of these happened he knew he would have to find other ways to gain respect and protection from society. A beautiful woman crossed the street. Yes, beautiful women get respect and protection from society. And children too. Is it too late to be a child? A beautiful woman? Yes, the only way is to have a child. And this beautiful woman is as good as any for that purpose, so he approached her and respectfully asked her if she would want to have a child with him. In the past any word he would have to utter to a woman casted a cloak of dread of him, debilitating, freezing dread. But this one was not about the beautiful woman, but about having children, something so wholesome and acceptable by society, no woman would scold him for wanting to have children with her. To his surprise, the woman ignored him, fixed her eyes on some undefined spot in the sky as to not take her focus off ignoring him. He looked around and saw a few people looking at him with expressions he couldn’t read. The overweighted grayed middle aged white man was there too, looking worried as he was dialing his phone.