He cupped the wrinkled bill in both hands like a newly hatched baby bird, not yet able to fly. He wished he could have held the others like that, that he could have given that same protective care to every other dollar he ever had. He couldn't believe how quickly it had all happened. He thought of every investment as a mistake, recalled ever dollar he ever spent as a gross error in judgement. It didn't feel like he thought it would, from what he had seen in the movies. His wife hadn't left to go to her mother's. She was at home. Her last remark as he walked out the door earlier that morning rang in his ears at a frequency he thought might crack his head like glass: "I believe in you, baby. I know you can do it." The elevator doors opened and as he stepped into the lobby he was immediately overcome with the gravity of his failed flight. He was grounded again, like someone filled his bones with lead just before he was about to take flight. He was anxious and distraught, it felt as though a skeletal hand was caressing his throat. But between the elevator and the building's exit something happened that he hoped to God was not extraordinary. He accidentally dropped the dollar on the floor as he tried to stuff it into his pocket. A breeze from the outside entered through the revolving door and blew it away from him as soon as he leaned down to pick it up. Immediately, an older man who appeared about 10 years his senior, traced the path of the windswept dollar like a hawk, and bent over to retrieve it with a noble urgency. The older man handed him the dollar and said with a smile, "Could be your lucky buck." Everything changed. He thanked the older man profusely and thought of unloading all his woes on him before realizing that the man had done enough already. He still felt shame at the thought of letting his wife down, but he also felt that no amount of shame or sadness of despair or failure could beat down a man who had just found out that he lived in a world where a person would pick up a dollar you had dropped and give it back to you, asking for nothing and wanting nothing but justice for the thievery of an unexpected breeze through the doorway. His confidence renewed, he decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up before going home to his wife. He washed his face, put on some cologne, and even bought one of those disposable tooth brushes so that his teeth would be clean and his breath fresh. On the way out he spotted a vending machine and thought that with his last dollar he would buy a Diet Coke so that the caffeine would give him the energy to convince his wife of what he already that knew: that somehow they would make it. He thought he pressed D5, but it was in such a hurry that he acknowledged as the bottle of orange juice plummeted from its gate within the vending machine that he could have pressed C5 accidentally. He thought of drinking the orange juice, but soon became aware that the residual minty toothpaste flavor in his mouth would render the drink uselessly and woefully bitter to his palate. He didn't mind though, he'd seen all his dreams crumble in one day. He'd lost everything. He was too humbled now to fret over getting the wrong drink. After all it was only a dollar, and one that he would have lost anyway had it not been for the kindness of a stranger. On his way to the subway station he saw a homeless man on the sidewalk with a sign that read: "Lost everything. Starving. Please Help. God bless." He walked up to the man and looked him in his eyes as he placed to orange juice bottle into his hands. "Thank you sir" the homeless man uttered with genuine gratitude. "I hope it gives you energy. It's a big violent universe and you aren't dead. That counts for something." The homeless man stared curiously as he walked away and eventually disappeared into the crowd. "That young man will make it" he thought. The homeless man remembered the day he lost it all. He wished someone had given him an orange juice on that day. But he was glad he had one now, anyway. He twisted off the lid and held the first sip in his mouth and tried to feel the citric kindness stimulating his palate. His blood surged from the sugar when he swallowed. The sun was halfway through its ascent in a clear sky. "It's still early" the homeless man thought out loud. "There's still time."