Chicago, IL-The sniveling, cherub faced fucking muppet wandering aimlessly around the train like a new born lamb, wrapped in his luxury Canada Goose parka, is undoubtedly on his way home to cry himself to sleep. His beady eyes and quivering lips, barely visible through the luxurious fur lining the oversized hood, reek of the type of despondency pacified only by the purchase of a luxury item.

Absolutely every feature and accessory is curated to appear spineless, a thousand lifetimes void of hardship or adversity. He’s not suited for the cold, or anything for that matter.

He rides the train with an air of contentment, periodically glancing up from his tablet sized phone to ensure that his leather messenger bag is positioned in a way that makes him look like a world traveler but also someone who burns the midnight oil at a well-known agency. He adjusts the laces on his chukka boots and perfectly tailored selvedge denim jeans.

Featureless and completely forgettable, docile, compliant, his possessions function as a personality of sorts. Perceived intrigue in an otherwise wholly uninteresting existence, he waits patiently for the moment he can return to his apartment, bury his doughy face in his pillow and weep until exhaustion sets in and he falls asleep.