Spirit
Cast in stone
And so it was on a fair Saturday evening that your blogstress sauntered toward Union Station, there to board the train that would carry her to the friends with whom she would travel to hear some exquisite jazz at the hands of guitarist and guru Paul Wingo. On Massachusetts Avenue, about to cross D Street, your cybertrix was accosted by a beautiful young man, who handed her a rather handsome paperback book, Ten Commandments, Twice Removed . "This is for you," he said, and quickly flitted away. He had brown skin and thick, curly black hair; despite the heat and humidity, he wore a long-sleeved white button-down shirt and charcoal dress pants held up by black braces. He darted across the street and began frantically approaching cars, passing books to the drivers. For her sartorial part, your Webwench was done up for her Saturday night in a swingy skirt embossed with a design in silver, and a most fetching lace-encrusted silk camisole, exceeded only in delectability by the la...