A young woman sits in New Orleans at Cafe Du Mondeeating fresh hot beignets and sipping iced coffee. The humid air sticks to herskin. The summer's heat is rising from the street, drifting down the openalleyways of the French Quarter and suppressing any cool breeze that might escapeinto the open-air bazaar. People swarm the vendors looking for deals on importedsilver and linens. The French doors and windows let in the sun to help cook thecrackling shrimp in a nearby restaurant. She smells the food, salty and fresh.She smells the spices in the marketplace. A small blues band is playing on thecorner. She listens, and unconsciously sways the straw in her cup back and forthto the beat.
Night falls. The children have been put to bed. Flashinglights and loud music illuminate Bourbon Street. A cloud of heat erupts from thebustling bodies. All who crowd this signature walkway are looking for excitement.The clubs invite her, the alcohol invites her and a few men invite her to have abeaded necklace or two. The atmosphere seems to forget the world and celebratelife. And she knows she will return to this incessant celebration.
Perhaps, she thinks, at the age of 21.
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