919
1981
Jake cut short his phone interview as the large newsroom clock ticked towards noon. He ran past the cluttered desk of his city editor, who tried to grab Jake before he hustled out the door, ran down Broad Street and settled on the bench overlooking the Savannah River.
It was Friday and he didn’t want to miss her.
He was still breathless when she glided down the path. He tried not to move as he studied her long black hair and epicanthic eyes that turned his direction as she passed by – as always.
Would he speak to her this time?