He looked taken aback. “Marian...” She got control of herself.“I’m not sure which I can say in fewer words: no marriage or no money. I guess i...’s a tie if it comes to that. But anyway, it’s no to both things,” she said. “Get out!”“Marian, I’m being sincere,” he said.“Get the fuck out, and I mean now. I’ve learned my lesson,” she said. “Oh, and thanks for the tip.” She shooed his protesting ass out.She got herself a cup of coffee and sat not quite ready to cry at the dinette table of her. You see, I really did die that night. John Garson, driven businessman, raconteur, incipient alcoholic, is no more. He died when I accepted my death on that rooftop. I go by Jay Garson now. I'm quieter. I still have my sense of humor, but I don't need to be the center of events. One glass of wine is enough for dinner, no nightcaps need apply. I'm content to enjoy life as it comes. I date occasionally, but I'm not looking for one night stands anymore. When I meet a woman, she has to meet a much. More

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