6 AM in the City that Never Sleeps

It’s 6 am in Times Square. The city that never sleeps, lit up in early morning fog. The maintenance crew coming off their midnight shift, and the smell of eggs and toast for $3.75. The neon signs flash the promise of eternal youth; anything your plastic card can buy. A girl with a leather folder hails a yellow cab, she is here to make it in the corporate world, her make up slightly smudged from the night before, when the wine was flowing from Edward’s 35th. A cab pulls up, the lights on Broadway all turn green, doesn’t it feel good to be alive?