As Agnes expected, she reached Independence Park first. What a glorious morning for an outing with Cristina! A cluster of teenaged boys, shirtless and dirty, were leading a game of tag football on the far side of the park. A group of young mothers with baby carriages were sitting on benches, their colored maids chattering nearby.
Beyond the ebony and alabaster faces, she could see the chaos of another busy Saturday morning on Chestnut and Market Streets. She thought of the Reading Terminal Market uptown and its endless rows of produce, fish, meats, bakeries – and those Jewish delis. Everyone was doing something this morning – anxious, she thought, to get chores out of the way for yet another sparkling summer afternoon.
Her eye was caught by the sight of a lone man running on the north side of the park. Wearing navy blue shorts and a white, sleeveless shirt, he looked different from most of the men she knew. Athletic with prominent shoulders, narrow waist, and muscular legs, the expression on his chiseled face focused like a pointer. He turned the corner and before she knew it, passed directly by her without giving her a gentleman’s glance. Her eyes followed his muscular physique and, especially, his hairy legs. He passed the group of young mothers and they also turned their heads. He disappeared behind Independence Hall. No one ever exercised in public like that.
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