I was also twenty years younger. I once again had a full head of dark brown hair. My thick mustache was nothing more than a bad memory and I was young...and svelte which I had not been since ... well, since never.I was just about to start panicking when I saw a light right in front of me. The light just hovered there at chest level. I was blinded at first, but it seemed to dim, or maybe my eyes adjusted. A loud, baritone voice that sounded like a church bell ringing spoke."We are in need of an. " Okie!", she answered beaming enthusiasm."Whereabouts are you? How much do you charge?" Near ghettotown Shantyville at 111 Fake Street and I charge $100 an hour." You can come any time you want.", she said. Unusual."Okay, see you soon!", he hung up the phone. Of course, her English was terrible, but she knew enough to do her business. She hadn't been in the country long.This is it, 111 Fake Street. He looked at the letterbox number and pulled in with his little metallic blue Mitsubishi. More

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