Benson, the Director of our group, standing before a stall as she calmly removed her blouse. She glanced over, spotted me, and smiled with a nod of g...eeting. I turned to the left as had become my habit. Stalls became claimed locations as women tended to use the same one.I had worn a mini-dress and was slipping it down over my legs and stepping out of it when I saw Ms. Benson walking the hallway toward me, moving past the doors. I wondered if the sight would ever not seem incongruous to me: . Their tiny flames seemed to mirror the stars above as she moved between them, tending to her garden of lights. He lingered patiently, his mind intent on mischief, as she went about her task, carefully manipulating her tripod and photographing her glittering garden, her Tuesday night?s homework, overdue, as he knew from the email she had sent him that morning. He knew, too, that she thought him to be still overseas, and wouldn?t expect him back for a week at least.At length she seemed finished,. More

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