Conniving to dress me as a Southern Belle and slip into the parade wasentirely her doing. It seemed as though the longer I knew her, the moreshe seem...d to unlock within me. I had nagged her to sign up for theparade, knowing that there was no way anybody would ever turn away hernatural, warm beauty from such an event, but also because I enjoyed thefantasy of her wearing all of the accoutrements of a Southern Belle. IfI loved her, it was because she apparently seemed to somehow understandthat. March 14th 1995, 11:35 AM; Hotel Pennsylvania; New York City, NYLooking out at the cool morning, a cold morning for March, the ugly monolith of Madison Square Garden stared back at George Caldwell. The stark clarity of the morning attested to its coldness. George grimaced as he watched the people march about down below in a huge crowd, bundled up against the late cold snap, rushing into the nearest empty taxis so they could escape the frigid cold. They moved like one mind, one being. It was as. More

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