”“All three,” I told her, confused. “My name is Johnny, by the way.”“Pleasure ter meet yer, Johnny,” she said, “Oi ‘ave a few things...back on me farm ‘at could use attendin’ ta. Ya seem ter need some grub an’ a warm place ter stay. ‘Ow about we trade?”“That sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a long time, lady,” I told her.“Roight t’en,” she said, smiling, “Falla’ me.”I got up and followed her. We walked a couple of blocks to a parking lot. There was a Volvo station wagon parked near an. He sat down at the keyboard, and Emily was amazed as his fingers literally danced over the keys -- this slow-moving, rather arthritic old man was the fastest typist Emily had ever seen! In a matter of seconds, he had the whole story up on the computer screen. "The only real comment I have is you put the most important part of the story at the end. You were building up to it, I understand, but this isn't a novel, and the reader needs to be told what the most important part is up front, since he. More

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