A woman, mid thirties, slender, dishwater blonde, somehow decides to tie her little black and white Basenji up next to the returned, loquacious leper of a man Herman. A braless shiny, who should not be braless, looks down at him as she passes by, continuing her conversation. “Twenty million ought to be enough. I don’t see what the problem is.” There is no exit for him or me, for we are common people. Everyman. Her and her conversation trail off into markets end and the shiny dog breaks the silent discourse. He’s like the shiny boy and doesn’t know any better. He jumps into his lap, wriggling his entire body. The man smiles the moment joy is transferred from the animal’s body. They give this energy back and forth to one another, the smiler and the wriggler. He opens up his backpack and pulls half a granola bar from somewhere inside. The woman’s day will be shattered when she returns from market realizing common people have touched her dog. May kids and dogs someday rule the world.