Raegan flipped her phone closed and pocketed it again. She turned to her left, picking up her usual morning walk right where she'd left off before Sean's phone call.
Ducking into the Starbucks on the corner, she came out a few minutes later with her usual chai tea latte. Her long brown hair twirled behind her and her knitted striped scarf flapped against her chest as she walked down 42nd street. The sidewalk was crowded, full of post-Thanksgiving early bird shoppers with endless bank accounts and minds set on Christmas. Raegan didn't notice the scruffy man in a tattered leather jacket stalking a few feet behind her.
"Good morning, Charlie," she said to the man running the newsstand, still wearing her million-watt smile.
"Hey, El Presidente," he beamed using the nickname he'd given her. She stepped up to the magazine rack, leaning on it slightly.
"Anything today?" she asked eagerly.
He grinned at her, then bent down behind the counter in the small stand. Raegan got up on her tiptoes, trying to see where he'd gone. Soon enough, he popped up again with a magazine in his hands.
He handed it to her, and said, "There you go, my love; this month's issue of Air and Space Smithsonian."
She smiled brighter, taking the magazine from him. "Thank you, Charlie."
"Anything for you, doll. You're my best customer, after all."
She chuckled a bit, handing over the small wad of ones, and waved to him as she started walking again. She entered the Time's Square subway station and swiped her metro card, making a mental note to add more money to it next time she went through. She pushed through the turnstile and headed down towards the 6 train. She took up a spot on the platform next to a support column and waited for the train. She sipped her latte, leaning sideways every couple of minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the train's lights. She thought about how absurd this behavior was and that all New Yorkers seemed to be in such a hurry that they thought sticking their heads into the space above the rails would make the train come faster. Looking at her watch, she leaned on the column and sipped her latte again as she started flipping through her magazine.
A few feet behind her, the scruffy man stood watching her intently. His eyes were hungry, almost devouring her just by sight. He ran a hand through his dark hair, letting his fingers trail down his face to rub at his eyes behind his glasses. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch the slightest hint of her perfume, but was greeted with that distinctly unique subway smell consisting of a mixture of disgusting scents.