Ten

This is a rewrite of a previous story. What do you think?

The morning sky seemed to crack through the clouds, while hectic dreamers busied themselves with technology. Sign holders were echoing chants of hate, while street performers played and danced. Ticket sellers beseeched consumers, and the homeless cried. Foreigners shuffled their hands to communicate, and tour guides urged their team to come forward. There was a circus beneath the splitting sky, and all the performers began to play their skits.
It is difficult to describe how time can move both quickly and slowly at the same time, because it is such a rare experience. However in this bustling city, it was exactly how time moved. There was so much going on at once, that it seemed like an uncoordinated cacophony of movement and noise. The city provided a feeling of never ending rushes, yet at the same time each tiny part was a puzzle piece. Each performer moved in leisurely methodical movements, that if you were to look at just one, it would seem as though time would last forever.
Such was true for Dale Winston.
Dale Winston was on forty second street buying his routine morning bagel accompanied by a pulp free bottle of orange juice, when a tourist poked him sharply in the back.
"I'm so sorry, but how do you get to the Metropolitan Museum?"
Dale grabbed his change before he responded.
"Your going to want to take 5th Avenue up to about 87th Street, right up that way, but you'll get quicker taking the sub. I forget the route though."
The truth was that Dale had never known the route. Art was never one of his deeper passions.
"Thanks."
"Yup."
The unsettling thing about this interaction was that it was expected of him, simply because he lived in New York. Yet as courteous as he was, New Yorkers would still earn the reputation of being "jerks".
Dale's true passion was the law, which was why he worked at Berkley, Emerson, and Charme Offices of New York. He held tightly to a dull brown briefcase with hints of burgundy, and tilted his glasses just so the Manhattan sun would not harm his beady eyes.
He had dirty blonde hair, that was combed neatly, and professional shoes that could only symbolize a man of impeccable work habits. He was someone you seemed to know already, a sort of archetype that was shown in movies where the father was too busy to care for his child. As it so happened, Dale didn't have a child. Nor a wife. Dale Winston had a short amount of friends and a large amount of paper. He was made of order and books, and studies, and rules.
He didn't like surprises.
He didn't like parties.
He didn't like people.
Dale Winston, however, did love work. As he checked his watch every other minute or so, he began to drill his mind through today's tasks.
The truth was they weren't that different from the obligations of yesterday, and last week, and the month before that. Dale liked that.
A man about his thirties, who wore sunglasses and held a black briefcase precariously at his sides waved towards Dale. Dale pretended to not notice him.
"Winnie, hey Winnie, over here." yelled Fred Drivit, an acquaintance, as Dale would have referred.
"Oh hey Fred." said Dale absently as he quickened his pace forward, nearly disrupting the drive of a vivid yellow taxi.
Fred followed, ignoring the fact that Dale was disregarding his appearance.
"Hey Winnie, you got the Tanner's case today, is that right? I wanna make sure before I go ask Michael for the job. Have you met that woman? She's insane Dale, not like most of your clients."
"Yes, I have the Tanners, and Michael is full aware. She is not insane by the way, just has a mild case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. It's actually quite refreshing to have a more orderly client such as Ms. Tanner."
"Whatever you say Winnie." snorted Fred "But I'm telling you the old nutjob is worth tons. It ?'ould be nice to have a dip into those pockets, there's a Benz I've had my eye on at McCoy's down on 56th."
"Well, if its money your interested in, you could ask for the Ender's case. Word has it that he has relatives in the advertising industry, but I don't put much stock into that", commented Dale as he rolled his eyes.
Fred rubbed roughly on Dale's shoulder, as Dale tightened his body.
"Always looking out for a friend there, eh, Winnie. I'll be sure to give that a go then, see you later."
Dale nodded his head as Fred left, and then shook his head after he was out of eye distance.
He took a last sip of juice, and walked forward to the marble building, as a strawberry blonde woman bumped into him.
"Oh, sorry Mister, my fault."
"That's okay." said Dale as the woman picked a piece of dust off his shirt.
She laughed "With a suit that nice, I just figured, you know ?'He must be important', and important people don't wear lint from strangers. Hmm..."
Dale was stunned by this woman, she was the type of person he hated. By a rule, he disliked people. However, this incredibly beautiful woman who was picking at him like he was an ape seemed amazingly...likeable.
"Thank you for the compliment, and the...cleaning", Dale almost laughed. Almost. Dale Winston was not someone to laugh.