The Present

She was clad in midnight blue, gliding across town in a BMW. Tipped the valet debutante style, flashing a toothless Mona Lisa smile. She had just turned twenty-one. Dinner and wine were her idea of fun. All the invitations were sent. Off to Rodeo Drive we went. I didn't know what gift to bring. She was used to all sorts of bling. All I had was a wrapped book, earning me a disappointed look. She was born into privilege, had no need for print verbiage. A lack of finesse she did mind, so she befriended her own kind.