I saw a woman last night who may have been high, not sure if it was drugs or life, but who was definitely dancing her way down Broadway. Not like simply skipping or walking funny; I mean dancing. She may have been playing air tambourine, as well.
So obviously, I had to create a story for her. (Obviously!)
She'd had a bad day. A really, really bad day, probably something at work went horribly wrong. Maaaaaaybe she got fired, but probably not. More likely she was passed over for a promotion. And it was a huge blow, because she was sorta counting on that promotion and the pay bump that went with it to make rent this month. But it went to the jackass that sits two cubicles down, the one that always smells like death, and instead of getting angry, she decided to dance her way home. Or maybe to the nearest bar.
Don't fret, Broadway Dancing Lady. Maybe you can team up with the Naked Cowboy. (Is he still around? Ugh, I haven't been at Times Square in ages.) Keep on dancin'!
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