Queen streetcar going west to holiday shopping

Caucasian male, mid 50s, with short greying hair and goatee, long black overcoat with Harry Rosen silk scarf and leather shoes. He adjusts his headphones and straightens the chord on his iPod before gingerly opening the book to the awaiting passage.

The Vampire Armand, Anne Rice (Ballantine Books)

Page 24:

Those unanchored hairs fell sloppily over his coarse cheek. His eyes were wet and wakeful-seeming, dying jelly.

He rests the book on his lap, dials up the volume and looks out the window to the sparkling displays. The music swells. His lips and toes curl a little. His calves tighten. Inching through the downtown core he decides it's warm enough to walk the rest of the way. He drops the book in his pocket and makes his way to the steps. At Yonge he bursts into the night air, full grin, the song rising in this throat. His feet hit the slick pavement, his form caught in the headlights of a waiting cab. He places his briefcase on the road and stares down the driver. He doesn't care, he loves this part.

Tell them how I
Am defying gravity!
I'm flying hi-eee-igh
DeFYing grav-i-teeee!
And soon I'll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!

The ten year old boy eagerly palms the window as the streetcar lurches on, the man's display fading into the distance. His mother tugs at his arm. Turn around, she says. Turn around and stop staring. The boy faces front, looks around at the absent gazes of the passengers, and sobs.