Tonight I was the witch. I was Circe, no I was Medea. I was capable of anything. The party was at Terrace Farms, an old victorian place in the countr..., always well done up, and always yielding the best costumes. Stepping through the door, I couldn’t find a soul I recognized. That is the terror of a masquerade ball. I stepped into a corner and surveyed the room, praying that, true to form, Shelly had came as Cleopatra. Her I could not find, but there was a simply lovely man that I couldn’t take. Eyes that danced with a mischievous light, and a smile that would light up the darkest, deepest cave, in the very deepest bowel of the earth. She looked Latina. Even from where I was sitting, reading "The Kite Runner," I could see how self-assured she was. That steely grace that only a woman who is in control, and knows her wants and needs, is able to express just by the way she moves.My third class that day was English Lit. It was mid- afternoon and the room was too warm. The air- conditioning. More

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