"somebody's watching me, it's my anxiety." you thought as you walked down the crowded streets of little italy in new york.

there was yelling from all around you, thousands of vendors lined up on the street selling a variety of things. there was nearly no room for any cars or horse drawn carriages to get through the street.

you were holding two bags of groceries your mother had sent you down to the market to get for that night's dinner. the bags were rather heavy, and you continuously stopped in order to hike the bags up higher so you wouldn't drop them.

"need help, signorina?" a voice asked you.

the man took the newsboy hat from off his head. he was a handsome man, a mustache covering his top lip, very dark hair that matched his dark eyes. he was thin, but well-built and in a nice three piece suit. he was vito corleone, a very well respected man in your neighborhood, who owned an olive oil company. a man you had never spoken to before.