Probably a poem. She thought to herself. Sitting at the table was her and her best friend Friday. Friday sat across from her and asked Delta the quest...on that was consuming her. "What are you writing?"She didn't look up at her. She focused on her work. "Probably a free verse poem." Can I see it?" Friday asked."Fine but it's not finished." She handed over her black journal with a white cross on the front to Friday. She had only a few lines down.Everyone is different, not everyone believes the. They had sacrificed a lot to buy a home in California and keep her clothed and fed. Her father had worked hard to get his business going. And as the only child, she was constantly doted on. She always had nice clothes and extra spending money.Her parents forbade her to work saying that she needed to focus on her studies. Neither of them had gone to college and they wanted their only daughter to be better then them, to accomplish more than they did. They did so much for her. The least she could. Finally I said yes and hoped that his parents would be cool with having a black man spend a week with them.We arrived late at night and when we walked in his parents were watching the late show and laughing. They both seemed real cool and his dad and I started to talk about sports. His mom was quiet but then got up and went and brought us back some drinks. When she bent over to give my mine I found myself staring down her white cleavage and then at her smiling face.I wondered if she was coming. "We've got some... so-so side dishes," remarked Stan. "And some lovely red wine from 1942, France." It was their attempts to make the evening more enjoyable for us. It was an impressive party, but just not our taste. "There are some important men here, Ron, besides just important cliants. I've been working the room already," he bragged."Good," I said. "That's more your thing than mine. I may be a good lawyer and businessman, but I'm not much for politics." Nonsense!" said Stan. "For instance,.