Once her bike had finally disappeared around the corner, I turned and strolled casually back to the waiting quiet of my office, steering around the kids that beat mercilessly at the dead fire hydrant, the rhythm of my neighborhood, making themselves (and the rest of us) feel hotter than anyone in Harlem should have to feel, too stupid to get out of the sun.
Last edited by Steven Lyle Jordan; 01-21-2009 at 10:50 AM.
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