“What are you doing here?” was all that I could muster as an opening comment, she actually looked sweet and innocent as she looked at me standing ...here like death.Before she could answer I beckoned her in, “Fancy a coffee?” I said as I had just made some.She nodded her head as we walked into the kitchen and I poured more coffee as Cindy sat herself down.“You look like shit mister” she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, “Frank, my name is Frank and yes, I do look like shit, I feel like. I think she was thinking of how I looked in our youngerdays. So by the time came to fly to Paris my hair was fashionably unkemptenough that I was able to achieve a reasonable ponytail when the moodstruck me.About six months after her death I really started to think long and hardabout what I wanted out of my life now that I was on my own. The thoughtoccurred to me that I could do what I damn well wanted to do. As Itwisted my newly long hair with my fingers into a barrel curl at mytemple it came. More

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