You: grey t-shirt, and running shorts. Me: Indian girl bombing through the side streets to avoid traffic. I saw you at the end of your run, hands on knees, sucking in DC's soup-like air. You looked up as I passed you, my radio cranking out "Enter Sandman." I watched you in the rearview - you kept looking, mouth open, confused, and finally laughing. That totally made my day.
So, same time next week? Maybe I'll play some Patsy Cline? Or some Tupac?
- the girl in the Sinatra