the shade of the trees, but just barely. The brick path continued, cutting through a a lawn that ended at the steps to a ramshackle porch. The porch was attached to a brick house, but looked like the only thing holding the two together, or keeping either standing, was masses and masses of tangled vines. None of the windows were overgrown, but that was about it.

Dotted here and there around the lawn were topiary, cut into fantastic shapes. There was a kind of dinosaur or dragon, a Pegasus, and even what looked like the loops of a sea serpent, its head facing the house.

He took all this in, and then looked back at the woman. She had long brown hair, loose but not messy, and a face that held a benevolent expression. Her blouse was a cream color, embroidered with tiny vines. It was fitted and covered the top of her skirt.

The skirt was made of a material he couldn't quite recognize. It flowed one moment like a silk or satin, and the next it looked rough and stiff like denim. He didn't normally pay much attention to clothing or the material of which it was made, but this was a true oddity.

The woman cleared her throat, and Kevin looked up at her face. She held out a hand and he shook it. It was surprisingly soft. His aunt, who had been an obsessive gardener, had rough hands with dirt ground into the seams and cracks.

"How do you do? Are you Mr. Colvin?" She asked the question with a smile on her lips, and he couldn't help but to smile back.

The conversation did not, however, stay so pleasant. She led him over to a table and chairs made out of what seemed to be braided twigs and vines. He didn't think his chair would hold his weight, but it did, almost molding itself around him.

Then the conversation took much the same turn as it had before. He held firm on the company's offer, and she tried to explain how it wasn't enough. Her face soon lost its friendly mien, clouding with anger.

Eventually he stood and opened a folder he had brought. He opened it and offered it to her. "Ms. Lennon, this is our offer. If you choose not to accept it, you have options as detailed in the attached documentation."

He watched her, watched for the signs he usually saw at this point in these kinds of conversations. Recognition of the end of the road; an angry sort of resignation that only people in his line of work witnessed, with the possible exception of civil servants at the various Motor Vehicle Administrations. They often witnessed a similar form of frustrated

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