Version 1
Numbers, numbers, numbers dancing in the eye. Everywhere he looked he saw the numbers, on people’s faces, on buildings, in the sky. He loved the numbers and he knew they loved him too.
“Tell me,” came the stern voice of Ms. Carthople.
“They are there just like normal,” he said with a sigh.
“The man in the black suit by the fountain,” what’s his color and number?
“five in red,” he said.
“In red,” asked Carthople, “interesting.”
“I don’t like the red people,” he knew that red was bad, usually a killer of some kind, he wasn’t sure what they killed, just something.

Version 2
Arthur gazed in wonder as the numbers began to appear around him. Everywhere he looked he saw the numbers, on people’s faces, on buildings, in the sky. He loved the numbers and he knew they loved him too. They danced around him as he spun in circle trying to embrace them all.
“Tell me,” came the stern voice of Ms. Carthople.
“They are there just like normal,” he said with a sigh as he was brought back to the here and now.
“The man in the black suit by the fountain,” what’s his color and number?
“five in red,” he said.
“In red,” asked Carthople, “interesting.”

[This message has been edited by JHam (edited May 26, 2011).]

While there is a school of thought that might like this approach, I'm of another: I'd suggest that objective of prose is (usually) to be invisible to the reader, letting them get in touch with the story and characters within. So distracted was I by they rhythms of this fragment that I didn't really follow the story fragment that much at all.