Ann: I don't know what I'm gonna get him for Christmas yet. He's already got everything.
Mark: He doesn't need anything anymore.
Ann: Well, I haven't decided what I'm gonna get you yet.
Mark: Better start looking.
Ann: What about me?
Mark: You'll see.
Ann: A lot of fun you are. You're supposed to tease me, give me hints, make me guess, you know.
Mark: Does it bother you?
Ann: What?
Mark: Walking around in circles.
Ann: [spotting a derelict on the park bench] Oh look, that's terrible.
Mark: He's not hurting anyone.
Ann: Neither are we. Oh God. Every time I see one of those old guys, I-I always think the same thing.
Mark: What do you think?
Ann: I always think that he was once somebody's baby boy...and he had a mother and a father who loved him. And now, there he is, half-dead on a park bench and where is his mother or his father or his uncles now? Anyway, that's what I always think.
Mark: I always think of how when they had the newspaper strike in New York, more of those old guys died. Fifty of them frozen died in one night.
Ann: Just because there were no newspapers?
Mark: Really.
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