Tucked away in the basement of a city building, a ragged man takes his seat behind a table. His gray hair hangs in tangles from underneath his dirty baseball cap, his clothes are full of stains and holes, and his shoes are made from soggy, discarded newspapers.

The table is made of tarnished metal, its color a rusty brown gained from years of rain and wetness. In place of a chair the man sits on an upturned garbage can.

The man's first customer is a well-dressed woman. She hands him a bill and offers her right palm upturned. The man takes it gently and a faint white light appears between their hands.

Customers come and go, giving money and receiving light.

Finally, a young man appears. He can't be older than sixteen, almost as ragged as the man behind the desk. He offers a tattered bill.

The man shakes his head and extends his palm. Confused, the boy puts away his money and receives his light.

Before he leaves, the boy asks, "What do you hope for?"

The man replies, "That one day people won't need me anymore."

The boy nods thoughtfully and leaves the man to his table. The man gives a faint smile to himself and puts his own two palms together. He receives no light. He lets the feel of his two gnarled hands clasped together overcome his senses for a moment. Then, he reaches under his ratty shirt and produces a locket.

It is gold, untarnished and unstained, gleaming in the gloomy darkness of the building's basement.

Gingerly, he opens the locket. His entire body suddenly shines white. A warmness washes over him and the light hides his dirty hair, his poor clothes, and his lean figure. He becomes a pure silhouette, and then the light vanishes.

Smiling broadly, he tucks the pleasantly warm locket under his shirt and begins his ascension.