“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” It’s such a broad question I struggle to find an answer. I suppose most people would respond that they’d ask for a tree that grew money, or a genie, or super powers. All of these answers seem too easy—too selfish. I stir the straw of my drink three times, as if I’ll find an answer in the contents of my watered down lemonade. The liquid and tiny ice cubes spin around and around in circles, like an underwater tornado. A wrinkled old man sporting a pair of thick black-brimmed glasses at the table next to me is reading The New York Times. Although his face is matured and spotted brown from years in the sun, his eyes are bright. He greets a kind, crooked smile to a golden retriever that eagerly sniffs the man’s wing tip Italian leather shoes. He lifts up his grey fedora, revealing slicked back white puffs of hair. Out of the right pocket of his sports coat, he whips …