Adonie wore black pants which were as always pushed into her boots
and a white shirt whose long loose sleeves gathered softly at her wrists
and whose collar rose to accent nicely her black vest. The vest was not
the worn charcoal corduroy blotched with numerous lumpy pockets which
she sometimes wore on the scaffolding or evenings bent over her charts
at the table. This was one I had never seen before.
Her hair gleamed; coppery lights struck from its darkness as she danced.