Looking back at the fantasy post I can see a few changes I'd make. One I thing I would do is I'd drop his name. His name isn't important and using pronouns would have worked as well. The first paragraph could use some tightening and a little better description of his mood and feeling. Maybe a little more about his normal way of doing things and how he approached life.
Hair perfect. Tie, tied in double windsor. Shoes, shined. Jacket, Spotless. It had taken him years to develope his sense of style and if he didn't look like a picture from one of the many mens magazines artfully arranged on his coffee table he didn't leave the apartment. It nearly ruined his carefully sculpted look but he also never left without his Ipod. It wasn't safe to walk around the city with it turned on but having the earbuds in made it easier to ignore any of he many homeless that would ask him for money on his short walk to the MUNI underground.
He didn't like waiting. He didn't like the people around him. Somehow on the platform the public sensed this and subconciously formed a circle at least 3 feet around him. On the train this was impossible and people would nudge up against him and shove past him. He found a few people below his contempt. Once or twice a week he'll see someone truly interesting but for the most part he just saw the mass of people as all alike yet somehow different from him. Or more precisely he was the one that was different.
It was a Tuesday which meant that one of the vendors would bring donuts to his office at the top of the Bank of America building. Because of this he stopped at Starbucks for coffee. He didn't like coffee and never drank what he bought but for some reason he expected to have it. Setting the Starbucks cup on his desk meant he could excuse himself from the social circle that always formed in the employee break room.
As he stepped back out onto the street coffee in hand a flash of light caught his eye drawing his gaze upward. Across the street and down two buildings sitting on the roof was the largest dragon he'd ever seen. It was crouched down and looking into the window of the next building and panting like a dog. Wings folded across its back. Tail hanging lazily off the edge and swinging down two full stories of windows.
"It's a big one isn't it?" came a voice off to his right. He nodded a little still mesmorized. Lost in memories of psychologists and drugs to help with hallucinations. He hadn't seen a dragon in years and thought that part of his life was done. He was an executive now and in control of his life down to the smallest detail. He thought he finally had it together. "First one I've seen in a long time" the voice said. A mirror to his thoughts.
Something in his mind clicked and he was back to the present. The speaker was at least a head shorter than he was wearing a stained and worn gray wool coat with the collars of two to three shirts poking out. A heavily lined and pinched face with Skin roughly the color of a good pair of shoes cracked into a gapped smile showing a few teeth roughly the color of burned butterscotch. "I never met nobody else who could see them, I guess we're alike"
"no!" he said a little shocked "we're not". He ignored the dragon and walked to his office. Starbucks coffee in hand, dressed perfectly and determined to have a perfectly normal Tuesday.