Every day, she walked down the same road. Caught the same bus. Sat in the same seat. Looked out of the same window. And sighed the same sigh. It was a soulful one. Because every single day, she saw it there. Jamjar Diner, read the board. She had never seen the inside of it. But she had imagined it from the inside a million times over. Sometimes its walls were bathed in a sunny golden-yellow paint, other times she visualised rocking chairs. But every single time, she daydreamed about having that gorgeous, thick dark chocolate smoothie, the one her client had presented to her during one of her busiest working hours. Looking back at the board, she decided to bunk work and freelance. Today, she wanted it more than ever. She sat on the footpath, feigning a sprained ankle. A bottle of soot came out of a torn plastic bag and she smeared it on her face. She sat there all day as passers-by threw a coin or two in her direction. It seemed like a lucky day. And then, she saw the clock strike 6 on a pedestrian’s wrist watch as he walked past her. She counted the jar full of coins and knew this was it. She made a run for the nearest public loo and brushed her hair, washed her face and got out of her work clothes. Her daydreams were just about to turn into reality. She took a deep breath and walked towards the restaurant. Her favourite song played in her head and she walked to its beat, feeling as if she was in a Bollywood movie. Until her eyes rested upon a tiny man standing right next to the doorway. It was the head of the Beggar’s Association of Andheri. The music in her head stopped abruptly. He had come begging for his pound of flesh and a reason for her absence. Stop. Rewind. The daydream played again. She smiled. And waited for it to come to life, someday.