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Show Delilah showered and walked out back to dry her hair. The night was warm and alive with conversation. Mrs. Jovanovic had been joined by Milan, relatives and neighbors. The renters of the other apartments in the triplex were out back having dinner, as were the neighbors on either side. The talk flowed from table to table and house to house. The topics would differ and then some groups would stop and listen to something said at another table and then suddenly everyone would violently disagree until the tooic was exhausted. She listened to the rapid fire Serbo- Groat and understood very little. On a similar evening a week ago she had walked out the door and the conversations had all stopped. Everyone's eyes were on her, the silence lingered and then broke sporadically at each table. "What have I become the topic of?" She asked her aunt. "Your clothing, my dear," said Mrs. Jovanovic placing a hand to her own bosom, "y-.ur top, it' is very small." Milan exploded into laughter as Delilah absently mimicked her aunt and looked down at herself. Everyone laughed and talked at once. "Not your top," said Milan, "your blouse." "Yes dear, 'my English is bad, your blouse, it is not covering all. It is not all there." "It's all here. It's called a halter top." Mrs. Jovanovic turned Delilah around. "It has no back, no sides, no bottom." She rested her case. "Everyone wears them "at home. " |