I stood outside the shop, eating my steaming chips and gravy in the cold when a man caught my eye. I wondered if he were lost or perhaps needed the time, but he simply extended a hand out towards me. Nestled in his palm was a thick golden chain and a heavy gold ring. Perhaps he thought I had lost them?

“How much?” he said.

“What an opportunity!” I thought to myself.

“Are you a pickpocket? Are these stolen goods? Fakes? I’m a writer I won’t turn you in, but I have to know, why are you doing this? Is it your horrific childhood and abusive parents? Have you just lost your job because of racism?”

He startled. Eyes wary as he began to back away.

“Wait! Please! Are you selling these to provide for your poor sick mother? Do you have a drug habit? WHY? I need to turn this into a story! WAIT!”

Sadly he turned and fled without giving me even the smallest iota of inspiration.