' 'And what do you do?' 'I'm in Accounts,' Bridget stammered. 'Accounts? How exciting! I think that's jolly important.Perhaps we could have a coffee...or something?' Brenda moaned and rolled her eyes. She had been employed at Mentone Industriesfor ten years and had managed to work her way up to Personal Assistant to theDirector of Marketing, a young man who was three years younger and less experiencedthat she. All the management positions were filled by me n, Brendathought silently, no one. His chair rocked in a gentle rhythm. The neighborhood and its houses stood empty. The men had long left for their work. The women had gone to their shopping. The children had been sent off to their schools. The houses and the bushes belonged only to the old man. He rocked. An old tom sauntered by him. It glanced at the old man. It saw he was not a threat. It sauntered away.The old man reached down. He lifted a Mason jar. It held a clear liquid. He brought the jar to his lips. The liquid touched. More

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