I went out and found a black hat. Not being something I normally wear, it was a chore to find one that I thought didn’t look stupid. New black jeans... boots, and shirt: her Hard Rider would be ready to ride.Finally, Saturday arrived. I was at O’Malley’s at about eight, always early. I felt a little silly, dressed like a cowboy in an Irish Pub, but no one seemed to mind too much. I nursed a beer and watched the door from the back of the bar.Promptly at nine, a woman in red entered. Her hair was. " I replied, meekly as I picked myself off the floor again, and again.The athletic young black man would not relent.He pounded and pulverized that heavy boxing bag with tremendous force, pausing only to rudely spit onto the matted floor every minute or so. It was curious how many times he was spitting onto floor during this particular workout. His dark, muscular body was far more drenched and soaked with heavy sweat than ever before, and it flew off his chiseled body and onto the mats with. More

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