I’m not sure that this man was aware that his jacket matched the vinyl seat coverings as he sat facing the back wall in the basement of a Wendy’s on Broadway. His particularly stylish type of despair is of a type that one encounters frequently in the dusty corners that abut the Great White Way.
Recently, with the aid of google maps and the USPS, I learned that Broadway is both the name and type of street. For instance, addresses on Broadway don’t read 555 Broadway, St. They read simply 555 Broadway. It hasn’t taken me quite as long to learn that a street with its own designation is home to as many deep sorrows as great aspirations.
I have seen some hilarious shit in that basement.