A Scene in my Head (I know, I need to name these)

A span of darkly lit street goes to the left and the right.
The young man emerges from an ordinary building in the shabby district, nothing distinguishing it from any of the others in the vicinity.
In the shadowed stoop to his left, an old and decrepit man lays still, quietly lamenting the loss of his right foot.
The peasants of the village pass before him, their backs bowed by the burdens and the stress of their miserable, meaningless lives.
A young woman on the corner to his right is screaming at the foot traffic, looking, searching, begging for help for her deathly pale child.
He, the strikingly attractive, well dressed young man, walks into the street.
The young woman pauses her wailing to gawk at the young man.
Her child gasps out a strangled sob, and she quickly returns to her pursuit of attention.
A cab goes by, calling out to the young man.
A silent shake of his head causes the cabby to quickly move on.
The young mother tries to hail it down, but he pays her no heed and speeds down the lane.
A few minutes pass before another cab cautiously creeps down the street.
The youth signals the taxi to pill up to the curb.
The young woman becomes silent in an act of respect to the well-off gentleman.
Once at the door of the taxi, the young man motions for the lady and the gasping infant to come close.
She does so with bulging eyes.
He quietly tells her to get in the cab.
She vigorously and resolutely shakes her head until her child utters a sudden cry of pain.
With a small flourish, he opens the car door and bows for her to get in.
She hesitantly does so with tears welling in her eyes.
He silently closes the door behind her.
Approaching the wary cab driver's window, he throws a large wad of bills on the passenger seat, adding that if he drops her off anywhere else than the front step of where she wants to go, he will deeply regret it.
The cabbie did not for one minute doubt it.
He speedily drove off, the woman in the back sobbing her gratitude.
He starts walking away down the street, past the old man, past the filthy children, past the poverty and stink.
A smile, like a secret joke, tugs at the corner of his mouth.
The peasants of the street watch watch as the quiet angel in disguise walks silently