Someone out of the frame of the window was shooting hoops, the thump and the tinny, hollow ring of the basketball echoing down the nearly empty street.... Headlights briefly splashed across our walls. A car pulled into the driveway across the street. A young man with flowers emerged from the car, slammed the door with his foot, walked up the steps to the front door, and rang the doorbell. “Aw, he brought her flowers,” exclaimed V. “What a nice young man.”“They’re both eighteen.” The defensiveness. I'd always wished someone could do something about all the damn spamemail I constantly received. But that didn't seem likely. Those damnspammers always seemed several steps beyond wherever the anti-spamprograms were.But for some reason, this particular spam message was different.Its subject caught my eye.I opened it.I read it.It made perfect sense.I'd never been overly worried about my baldness before. It was justthe way things were. I'd been bald as a cue ball since my earlytwenties. It's. More

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