A smiling opportunity.

The teapot had been singing for nearly a minute before Henry took it off the heat. He poured the steaming water over the honey lemon tea bag sitting at the bottom of his plastic mug and took a sip. The water burned his tongue; he cringed.

He strolled from the cramped kitchen into the living room, where he gazed out his sliding doors onto the streets below. It was raining again. Henry turned and walked around his meager apartment, looking for something to do. He had no TV. He had no computer. He had no friends. His only entertainment was the seven books he kept on his bedside table and a set of crossword puzzles. Henry kept himself busy most days, dreaming up Dorothy's next adventure or observing people from his teeny balcony. But it was days like today when Henry wished he had some purpose in his life.

Henry sipped his tea cautiously, not wanting to scald his tongue any more, contemplating what to do.

Then he decided, quite abruptly, to go to the grocery store. Maybe he'd find something interesting. He made a list of items – Henry never went to the grocery without a list – and put on his bright yellow raincoat and golashes. Then he headed out.

Inside the grocery story, he began to make his rehearsed rounds – from the produce section through the aisles, and then over to the dairy section. There, he saw quite a sight.

First, he saw a man bending over the milk cartons, his butt crack peeping over the edge of his pants. Henry's eyes drifted to the rather large woman standing next to him. She was dressed in a hideous white dress with pink and green hearts and was quite agitated, it seemed, with the man. "How could I ever have thought we were meant to be if you go off with your dime store floozys? I am a real woman..." Henry walked away. He didn't much care about her problems.

After paying for his groceries, Henry headed back towards Washington Heights. The clouds were threatening rain again. All of a sudden, Henry heard a sound. It was a song, getting closer and closer until it seemed to be right behind his shoulder. He looked onto the road just in time to see a little ice cream truck pass by. He was amazed – he hadn't seen one of those since he was a kid. And what in the world was an ice cream truck doing driving around Baltimore in the fall? There was some strange stuff going on in this place, Henry thought. The more he saw of it, the more he wanted to get out.

Then he saw the lady. She looked like a business lady, dressed up in a nice black skirt suit. She wore makeup and pumps and pantyhose and was standing in the middle of a sidewalk in Washington Heights. As Henry approached her, she approached him. She was holding a small stack of pamphlets and wore a peppy grin. "Hello!" She stuck out her hand. "I'm Lauren Flinn, from the Baltimore School of Fashion and Design. Here's a brochure –" she held one out for Henry to take – "that outlines our classes. Right now we're offering scholarships to anyone who agrees to attend full time for two years..." The woman flipped the brochure over in Henry's hands, pointing with her French-manicured nails to the things she was talking about. But Henry had stopped listening. His mind was spinning.

He loved fashion. Dorothy loved fashion. He wanted to leave Washington Heights, and this woman – this gorgeous, sweet, misplaced woman – was offering him a paid education at a fashion school. Henry almost pinched himself to make sure that this was really happening.

"...and classes for the spring semester begin in January." The woman stopped talking and looked up at Henry, smiling. "Can I have your name and phone number to contact you?"

And so Henry gave the woman his name – Henry, of course, not Dorothy – and told her he would really like to be considered for the scholarship. The woman smiled at him, shook his hand, and told him he'd be hearing from her soon. She turned on her heel and walked down the sidewalk.

Just as he reached the apartment building, it began to rain again, but even the bleak weather couldn't bring Henry down from his high. He could go to fashion school! He could become successful and have friends and go to parties! He could find a boyfriend! And the best part about it all was that going to fashion school meant leaving Washington Heights. What a novel thought.