The Efficiency of Patience
Sarah checked her watch for the fourth time in two minutes. It was 8:14 AM. She was already late for the morning briefing at Goldman, and the humidity of the New York morning was making her silk blouse cling to her back. She was walking fast, her heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the concrete, when she saw him. He was an old man, sitting on a plastic bucket by the edge of the East River. He...
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