Downstairs to Penn station and the gallery of bruised lockers where he found and punched the combination of locker 969 and pried out the stuffed shopping bag and hefted it toward the platform staircases. The conductor jovially punched tickets as the Amtrack train started to roll and as he came upon aisle 47 he quizzically blinked and glimpsed around. "Wha--? Wasn't there a little boy with a bag here when the doors opened a couple minutes ago?" That was my brother, sir. He came to see me goodbye." Oh, very nice of him!" the conductor said with a chuckle, charmed by the sweet smile of the comely blue-eyed creature primly sitting in a ruffled canary blouse and full teal skirt whose crinoline slip's lacy flounce peeked out from under a hem draped across huddled ivory-filmed knees and calves above frilly anklets and suede skimmer pumps as charcoal black as her waist's thick tight shiny belt. She brushed from her rosy cheek a tendril of flaxen blondness cascading from her wide straw bonnet. And then I went to the rear of the store. Actually, the second entrance. There was a coffee shop at the rear with tables, and even better, a set of doors that opened onto a elevated terrace overlooking the Intercoastal Waterway in Fort Lauderdale. Purchasing a Super Grande coffee I made my way out to the terrace and to my delight found a vacant table just to the right of the door: my favorite spot . The view was looking west across the water to the piers where there were large sailboats tied up. It was about fifteen minutes past noon and the sun was just beginning to peep over the building from the east side. Delicious coffee, new books to examine, a cool salty breeze and the faint sounds of lines slapping against the masts of boats. The door to my left opened and out stepped a vison of paradise. She was tall with fair skin and shoulder length jet black hair and crystal blue eyes. She appeared to be in her middle twenties. Drop dead gorgeous. Clad entirely in black, she was wearing.
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