Best place was the barbershop, followed by the station-service-bar-restaurant, but I did prefer the post office.I had spread the word I was looking fo... work, preferably something related to numbers, but accepted any other kind of work; since I was in a kind of spiritual and sentimental recovery from a failed relationship. In the whole time I was in the town, I hadn't seen my mother even once, and I would not inquire about her to avoid any suspicion. If we met, I wanted it to be by chance.I. (“Act decent!” I scolded myself.)I began to sweat a little. My forehead was dotted withit.“Are you OK? Tell me if I’m hurting you Dear. I don’tnote any fissures or hemorrhoids. No bleeding. You seemto be doing just fine. Ahhh… that’s my girl. You’regetting drowsy. I want you to act onthat feeling of sleepiness and relax as never before. Idon’t think you’ll need a sleeper tonight…” And hersoft, yet firmly disciplined voice. More

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