All I saw of him was a trenchcoat that he gathered together as he walked out of the train terminal. He walked hurriedly as though the weight of this material edifice bore down on him and he couldn't emerge into the welcome arms of the dark storm outside.

The magazine vendor eyed me warily as I approached, he was sorting some issues and it was clear he had long ago stopped caring about the covers of most of the junk he stocked. He almost seem embarrassed by the rags and it was clear he put the news magazines and more respectible periodicals in more prominent positions.

I grabbed a Time, The Future and a Wall Street Journal. He looked at me closer as I scanned the cover of The Future entitled "The Octopi - Developers and Their Victims." I winced.

"You work for Ms. Taggart don't you?"

"Yes, I have an office next to hers."

"She's a smart one. She brought me a new brand for my collection awhile back."

"She told me. Have you seen any more like it?"

"No, and I've looked. I empty these ashtrays here twice daily. I see lots of butts mashed down in the sand, but none have that distinctive dollar sign. These days it's all mostly the cheapest brands."

"Well, good luck."

I placed on his counter enough to pay for the magazine and paper with a little left over. I turned and walked out into the storm, I put the copy of the Future on top of the Wall Street Journal and held both over my head as I emerged into the rain. The rain was coming down hard now and it danced on the concrete in thousands of tiny explosions of water. In the distance, I could see the clouds silver lining, even though the dark clouds seemed to dominate the sky over the city. Little groups of people passing each the other, oir gathered in shapeless forms on the street corners. One group was huddling for shelter by a large fur store with an old neon sign that probably dated to the mid-forties when the store was new. The store was closed now, out of business for some years, ever since vandals regularly splattered red paint on the storefront and emerging patrons. The people still sheltered under the furriers decaying cornice from the elements and the cold. The sight was a small irony they were not even aware of.

My car, a new Hammond out of Colorado was waiting at the curb. The meter was still running and was one of the new jobbers the state had put in which take only credit cards and which can be rung up for a day at a time for only 12 dollars. I still had fifteen hours to go on the meter. The city bureaucrats knew how to make money on nothing. I could hope that someone would get some use out of the meter, but at this time the station would have almost no one coming or going and the money would be paid for nothing. But the meter was set for 1 hour intervals or a full day with no choices inbetween and they knew no one wants to come down and refeed the meter every hour. The looters strike again.

For some reason, I couldn't get myself to drive off. I left the car in the spot and walked in the rain. I spotted a small diner on the other corner, a place I had been meaning to stop by for years to see if they were any good. I could often smell bacon and eggs coming from their smokestack in the morning. I even imagined I could smell fresh coffee mixed with them. During the day, one could smell burgers and fries. BUt the place was not hip or modern and most folks had no time for an old fashioned well lit diner, when a coffeeshop next to the Marx Bros bookstore was the hip place to brunch. I started over and the rain came down even harder. The copy of The Future made poor shelter from the elements and so I spread the Wall Street Journal over me which made a better makeshift umbrella as I walked.

The smell of fresh coffee percolating greeted me. The diner was mostly empty but was immaculately clean. The stools had were red patent leather and the stainless steel counter is the sort that hasn't been made in decades, but lasts forever and takes an infinite amount of abuse. In the corner sat a young couple, enjoying eachothers company and oblivious to my entry from the storm.

"It's quite a downpour out there!" said a waitress well past her prime but with a friendly look of competence and experienced joviality.

"Yes. How about a warm cup of coffee."

"Coming right up!"

I sat down on the stool at the counter where I could look out at the rain. It would blow over soon enough.