Royce Calloway strode through the crowded mall, his leather wingtips striking the brick flooring deliberately. Rays of sunlight streamed down from the foodcourt's skylight, and his shoes shone like polished glass in its noontime gleam. His sleek Armani suit fit his squat frame to perfection, and its white fabric emanated a pristine glow that surrounded him like an angelic aura.

Smells of onion and garlic touched his nose as he bypassed one restaurant, and scents of Asian cuisine drifted by as he passed another. There were a myriad of exotic foods to choose from, but he shunned them all and headed straight for the tried and true burger joint with the golden-arched “M” over the entryway. He stepped up to the counter behind an old woman. He peered over her hunched back and frowned at the thinning blue-white hair she wore in a tight bun. She adjusted her Coke-bottle glasses with a trembling hand as she scanned the menu overhead.

“Oh my” she croaked. “There are so many choices. I have no idea what to get” she laughed in a slow, wheezing cackle. Royce tapped his foot impatiently. He scowled as he looked at her long, flowery house dress which hung on her thin frame like a pair of heavy drapes. Don't people know how to dress anymore? he wondered.

After an intolerably long wait, the woman made her purchase and shuffled over to a table, shying away from him as she went past. Royce moved up to the counter, dabbing at the sweat beading up on his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

“Mr. Calloway” said the girl behind the counter. “Haven't seen you in a while. How are you?”

“Well, I can't complain Janie” he said, giving her the mischievous, twisted smile he knew she loved so much. “Been pretty busy lately. Since the market crashed, I've been working my butt off to keep the business going. Think things are finally falling back into place though.”

“That's great” Janie said. It was obvious to Royce that Janie cared for him. Since the stock market crash, whenever he stopped by she had a sad look in her green eyes. While he was flattered by her affections, he knew it just wouldn't work between them. Why, I'm old enough to be her older brother he thought, laughing to himself.

“Should I get you the usual Mr. Calloway?”

“But of course” he replied in a mock French accent.

Royce got his order, and turned to find a table. He saw a brunette in her mid-thirties eyeing him from across the room, and he flashed his perfect pearly-white teeth at her, confident that she too had fallen victim to his charms. Women always succumbed to them. They were powerless to it. He'd even seen women turn away as if struck by a physical blow when he approached. And why shouldn't they? He was a wealthy investor who literally embodied the words style and grace. No other man alive could compete with him. He had no equal.

He sat down to enjoy his meal: a large burger with tomato and lettuce (hold the ketchup), tender golden fries, and a large, thick milkshake. He hadn't gotten to indulge himself recently, so today he took his time and savored every glorious bite of the meal.

When he was done, he carefully wiped off the table and dropped his trash into the nearby container. He headed to the restroom, anxious to get back to work. Time is money after all.

After using the facilities, Royce exited the stall to find himself face to face with a horribly unkempt old man. His scant gray hairs stuck up wildly on his age-spotted head. His face appeared to have been battered by the passage of many hard years, and his eyes bore the weight of heavy bags hanging underneath them. The bum wore a tailored suit that looked as though it'd just come out of a shredder, and its once white fabric was stained an ugly brown by the filth of the streets. Royce's nostrils flinched as he caught a whiff of the man's stench, and he shook his head in pity and disgust.

How could anyone stand to live like that? he wondered, his mind incapable of entertaining the notion of himself ever falling so low.

Royce adjusted his silk tie and ran his fingers over his slicked gray hair. He took a final glance at the decrepit old man. Then, wordlessly he turned away from the image in the mirror and strode out the door.