James sits at his desk, leg bouncing. When the phone finally rings, he’s halfway through the door. His hello is a sigh of relief.

Tall enough for pro ball, built like ambition in a tailored suit — James walks like the sidewalk was made just for him. One woman thought she could climb him like a tree. But James sees himself as a short man, capable of being taller.

The height of the city beats down on him, shrinking his size inch by inch. His legs stretch and walk the sidewalk swiftly. They at least are good for walking, but he dreams of being as tall as buildings - to be looked up at and not passed by.

Most would look at James and think he is miserable in this crowded city. But they would be wrong. James has never been happier. The city tells him there is more within reach, if he can stretch a little taller, earn a little more, be a little more.

James’s thick dark brown hair is the cherry on top of his good looks. It’s a polished style to his professional financial attire. You won’t find a briefcase in his hand, but you’ll see James wearing an expensive suit and Italian shoes as he walks past you quickly, always faster.

It’s not just the looks or the money — it’s the vibe. He oozes self confidence. He demands the room. When James looks at you with sharp green eyes, he doesn’t ask for respect. He expects it.

His mouth opens, and everything makes sense. You want to buy what he’s selling. You want to not steal his parking spot.

Don’t stay out of his way, but catch his attention. Get his approval. And feel the power that rolls off his shoulders.

No, James could never live in a small town. The people would crown him too early. He would never have the chance to climb to the top, because the top would be too short.