5. Dreams

 The next day, at noon.  

Douglas was picking up customers who waved him down on the street.  

Two men in sharp suits entered his taxi. One of them, with slicked-back hair, a broad forehead, and glasses, was a familiar face: Clarence Davis, a former prosecutor and now a candidate for mayor.  

Douglas secretly disliked Davis, seeing him as a devious character who had publicly exposed the troubled past of his rival, Reverend Bradley.

Davis was known for hurling insults at Bradley, who had previously spent time in a juvenile detention center. Using a bullhorn, Davis belittled him, calling him a scavenger while Bradley worked to clean up the slums.  

In the back seat, Davis chatted with what appeared to be his secretary.  

"All Bradley does is try to improve his image by wandering aimlessly around his hometown," Davis sneered.  

"Yeah, he's only popular with the town riffraff. His church is struggling financially and he's running out of campaign funds," the secretary added.  

"Haha! It takes money to clean up the city. And money comes from having the right connections. What's Bradley going to do - pick up coins on the outskirts of town? That's not something a dirty ex-con can do."  

"We have a lot of support, though. It's all thanks to your hard work, sir."  

Douglas had visited and spoken with Pastor Bradley once.  

At the time, Bradley was taking a break from repairing the bullet-riddled walls of his church, the victim of a hate crime. He listened to Douglas with kindness and compassion.  

"The past will haunt you until you die, but above all, you must live in the moment. We are all gifts. Be grateful for the job, the clothes, the shelter, and the food you have today," Bradley had said.  

Douglas would never forget the small, compassionate pastor's words-not just the words, but the tone, the kindness in his voice.  

Now, as Davis' sharp words filled the cab, Douglas frowned for a moment, unable to hide his disdain.  

Noticing this, Davis sat up, checked Douglas' name tag, and asked through the rearview mirror.

"Have I driven with you before? So tell me, Douglas, who do you think will win the next mayoral election? Me or the pastor?"  

Davis raised an eyebrow and grinned. The cheap cologne he wore, masking an air of pretension, was disgusting.  

Douglas grinned slightly and replied.

"To clean up the city... you have to start with the people."  

---

6:30 PM

Douglas and Sheryl sat across from each other in the coffee shop they had talked about the day before. Sheryl ordered hot chocolate and Douglas chose milk tea.  

Douglas listened intently as Sheryl talked happily about her life.  

She told him she was from Italy and was renting a room in her aunt's country house, just two doors down from the main house.  

"I rely on my aunt a lot," she admitted. "She works the night shift, so we don't see each other very often. But she always wakes me up so I'm not late. I'm quite the sleepyhead."  

"It takes me three alarms to wake up," Douglas joked. "Although that could be because I drink too much."  

"Fufu," Sheryl giggled. "My aunt's carabaccia is the best way to wake up. She grows onions in her fields, and I sometimes help out with the farm work."  

"Wow, you're tough," Douglas said. "Someday I'll have to try your onion soup after a night of drinking."  

Douglas remembered something Harry had told him once: A girl who talks about her family is a good girl.  

He could tell how much love Sheryl had received growing up - and how much she appreciated it.  

Sheryl sipped her cocoa and looked at Douglas with a warm smile.  

"My Uncle Bob," Douglas said, "fed us better than he fed himself when I was growing up."

"He sounds like a great guy," Sheryl said.  

Douglas nodded. "He loved to watch people enjoy their food."  

Sheryl's blonde hair fell softly over her red jacket, her features lit by the cafe's lights.  

Douglas noticed the slightly coarse ring on her left pinkie. It didn't seem to match her outfit, but it was the same one she'd worn the day before.  

With a small sigh, Sheryl said, "I want to go home soon. Six more months. I need to make a good living."  

"You want to go back already?" Douglas asked.  

"No, not yet. I mean to my hometown. Sometimes I miss my mom. But I made the decision to come here, so I'm going to hang in there."  

Douglas silently admired her strength and determination.  

When the subject turned to her work, Sheryl admitted, "I'm just assembling precision machinery right now. It's not really my thing - just a way to make money. I came here for my dream."  

"Your dream?" Douglas asked.  

"I want to be an actress," she said with a big smile, and Douglas was struck by her sincerity.  

"An actress? That's not an easy road," he remarked.  

"I've been on TV," Sheryl said, laughing. "Well, as an extra. In a crime drama, I was just a face in the crowd at a murder scene. And in a commercial for a storage shed, I was one of a hundred people standing around. Tiny roles like that."  

"But I love acting. For now, I'm going to work and save money. When that's done, I'll follow my dream."  

Douglas smiled. "You have a certain charm. You glow."  

"Pfft, what does that mean?" Sheryl laughed.  

They finished their meals - Douglas indulged in a fruit salad, a cheeseburger and a chocolate parfait.  

As they walked out of the café, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Douglas felt more at ease than usual, sensing a rare connection.  

As they walked side by side, their hands brushed lightly.  

Douglas noticed Sheryl's ring again and asked, "That ring--it's pretty bulky.  

Oh, this? It's part of my work. It has the authentication code to get into the factory."  

Douglas nodded, sensing there was more to her story, but decided not to push.  

As they parted in front of the station, Sheryl laughed at one of his jokes and said, "See you tomorrow."