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was a question, one thrown to a remembering mind that he no longer possessed. This thought said, "Am I dead now? How and when did it happen?" The thought faded, leaving no trace.

1.

"I used to take my mowers out there, but not any more. That old hag scares me too much."

Sebastian paused the drink at his lips. He had a difficult time imagining big Larry, a gruff old contractor, being intimidated by anyone.

"C'mon now. Surely she can't be all that bad."

Larry laughed and shivered. "Says you. Actually, she never gave me any grief personally, but I've seen her take customers apart. And those guys that work for her - man, they gotta have some real cohunas to stick around there. The whole place just gives me the creeps."

Sebastian shrugged, palms up, and said, "Yes, but she was the only one willing to work on the old rider of mine. No one else cared to touch it."

Dan entered the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the ice chest in the corner. Sebastian had placed it there, on a towel at Lauren's request, for their small, Wednesday evening dinner party. Dan twisted the bottle top and asked, "What place?"

"The used mower repair shop out on route BB. The frame on my riding mower rusted through, all around the front pulley, so I dropped it off on Monday."

Larry solicited Dan's support. "Hey, you ever been out there, ever seen the old woman that runs the place?"

Dan turned away from his reflection in the microwave door. He nodded. "Oh yeah, a reeeeal looker, isn't she? Not that I've got anything against the natural look, but man does she push it way past the limit."

Lauren came in chatting with Dan's newest girlfriend, Becky. The men stopped talking and watched them deposit paper plates and cups in the garbage. Lauren circled around behind Sebastian's chair and patted his neck. "Can I refresh your white Russian?"

Sebastian folded a napkin diagonally and wiped his moustache, a precision-trimmed band of thick black whiskers, speckled with silver. This moustache matched precisely his close-cropped hair, and together they framed and sectioned a refined face, cappuccino in color, and beset with dark eyes. Sebastian wore a lean Latin elegance, like that of a retired bullfighter, or, perhaps, a foreign diplomat, and he wore it with a careful casual confidence.

"No thank you."

The men fell quiet and swirled their drinks. Becky surrendered to the silence and gave the stalled conversation a nudge. "Lauren, your home looks great. You must have a team of maids hidden somewhere around here. I don't

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