Tim gazed out of the tinted window of the Greyhound boss, somewhat distracted by his

reflection staring back at him, yet the feeling of excitement that he felt fluttering around

in his stomach could not be tempered.

His eyes started back and forth as he tried to take in as much as he could of the towering,

glowing buildings that surrounded him.

He had never seen such a sight, especially in his hometown of Glenwood, Iowa.

Now, there the most common landmarks were sprawling fields of corn that were being tended

to by local farmers.

Tim's spectacular visual tour of Chicago was rudely interrupted as the bus pulled into

the station.

He had been on the bus for hours, as he was coming from visiting his aunt up in Michigan

for the holidays.

The bus was packed with people who were coughing, snoring, or tending into their crying children.

He was more than ready to get some fresh air and stretches legs.

His final destination was still hours away, and he was starving.

The bus would not be departing from Chicago for a couple more hours, he would walk around

the city a bit to see if he could find a place to grab a bite to eat.

As he walked through the station, he spotted a bank of lockers.

He decided to store his duffel bag so as to be unencumbered for his brief walking tour

of the city of broad shoulders.

He mashed his bag into one of the small lockers, slammed the metal door shut, and deposited

a dime into the small slot.

...