Clarion West

A white-hot shaft of late afternoon sunlight from the glass ceiling ricocheted off a tanned arm and shot through the leafy bower of trees and vines imprisoned in the courtyard at the Kansas City Embassy Suites. It dissipated into a flurry of tiny sparks atop a growing crowd gathered below. A step back from the railing, a quick peek in the compact mirror, a mist of cologne, a check for a small bulge in her bag – she was ready now, gunning for bear. She caught her reflection in the mirrors of the elevator, sucked in her stomach and tugged at the hem of her red dress just as the doors opened.