Blaine sat on the cold metal bench arms curled around himself in an attempt to shield his body from the cool autumn wind. He had been sat like that for the past hour watching people hastily walk down the busy streets of New York.  He saw one smartly dressed woman stomp out of an office block. She had a first class bitch face on and looked like she could kill someone right now. Blaine watched her walk halfway into the road to hail a cab. The little yellow car pulled up next to her and she quickly jumped in it and slammed the door. Blaine wondered what her story was. What was with her angry looking face? Had she just been fired? Maybe she had just broken up with her boyfriend. Where was the cab taking her? Home? To a bar?

Blaine liked trying to work out everyone’s story. Maybe it was because he didn’t have anything else to do or just because he didn’t really have one of his own.

He sat there day after day watching people go around living there busy lives. Never doing anything for his own life. The fact he didn’t really have a life. He had no friends, no family that he saw regularly. He didn’t even have his own space. He had been living on the street since he was seventeen. He had moved to New York in hope of fame and fortune. He had auditioned for every Broadway show there was. After two months of trying for parts he still had nothing. Before he left Ohio he contacted an old family friend, named Joel, who he knew lived in the city. Blaine had stayed with Joel for three months. It was a good three months he didn’t have any parents breathing down his neck, No home work to worry about. Although he had to think about money and work, he felt free, like no one could hurt him.

But all things good come to an end. Joel had lost his place at collage and he couldn’t afford to keep his apartment. Blaine had been chuck onto the street along with his roommate. They stayed together for a while. Sleeping in subway stations under an old, threadbare, blanket. But Joel had gotten himself arrested for breaking and entering. Joel was the only person he knew in this big city and now Blaine was by himself.

So here Blaine was sitting on the side of a road in New York. What had his life come to? Blaine slowly looked around and realised he didn’t even know the name of the street. He had lived here for five years and he didn’t even know where he was. He got up and looked around. There was a street to his far right that he recognized. He picked up his small back pack and his guitar and headed to the other street. When he was at the end of the street he stopped and let the view soak in. Yes he defiantly recognised this place. It had that nice little café that sold good coffee. Blaine felt around in his warn out jean pocket and found a five dollar bill that he didn’t know he had.

 Must have been some generous person who gave me this Blaine thought to himself. Blaine never had much money he didn’t have a job. The only way he got money was from playing his guitar and singing on the street, hoping that generous passers-by would take pity on him and give him a dollar.

He looked at the five dollars clasped in his hand. He would normally save his money. But the wind was starting to pick up and he really wanted to go inside. So he walked up to the small café and roughly pushed the heavy door open.

He stood in the door way for a minuet looking around. There was a small queue of customers by the counter. The tables that were scattered around the room looked clean and stylish.

Blaine felt out of place in this shiny café. He was wearing black worn out jeans, a plain white shirt and a blood red jacket. He didn’t own that many clothes. He had a few outfits that he had taken with him when he came to New York but he mostly just stayed in the clothes he was wearing now. Most of the other people here were wearing suites or designer clothes. He felt out of place but then again he usually did wherever he went.

He shuffled in and walked up to join the queue. The man in front of Blaine was wearing a grey suit much like the rest of the people in the queue except the suit had a slight sheen to it making it almost shine in the sun light. It looked expensive and fashionable. The man looked like he should be on a runway in Paris. His hair was perfectly styled, unlike Blaine’s messy curls. Blaine hated his hair when he was younger he would smother it in gel. The man walked up to the counter and ordered his coffee and Blaine couldn’t help but stair at his golden brown hair some more, it seemed so familiar.

The man grabbed his coffee only to drop it when he turned round and looked at Blaine.

“Blaine?” The man asked in surprise not even noticing that his suit had been ruined by the coffee he had spilt on it.