Wednesday, July 27, 2011


Reporting from Washington, D.C., Brian is looking urbane and debonair in a cravat of distinction.  This tie, a chocolate silk studded with pale, petite dots in a grid pattern looks very, very GQ.  She looks across the breakfast room where almost no one is seated.  It is a sea of ivory damask tablecloths and gleaming flatware.  At a small two-top he sits, a French press in front of him along with a basket of croissant et petit baguette.  He checks his watch briskly and raises the cup to his lips as he scans the room.  As he sees her, he raises his eyebrows inquiringly.  Squaring her shoulders with a resolve she does not truly feel, she crosses to the table.