“What are you doing? Where are my clothes?” The old man looked around the tiny room. “I’m sorry, miss. They were here.” “I know that,” ...he snapped, angrily, feeling panic, “So where the hell are they now?” “I’m sorry, miss. I really don’t know.” “Was the door locked?” “Err…no miss, I didn’t think…” “You didn’t think to look after my possessions. Well, thank you very much!” He looked cowed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You saw,” she said accusingly, “Didn’t you?” “Saw, miss?” . "Ain't no thang, Sugar. Do what ya gotta do. I'm down wit' it."Kyra beamed radiantly.Surgery is surgery, in spite of what you see on television. Ifyou don't believe it, go in for even a minor cosmetic procedure - andsift through the mountain of authorizations, disclaimers, releasesand waivers you have to read, interpret and sign. I dutifully wentover each one with Kyra and Dr. Jensen's office manager. It seemedlike they would never end! Kyra had mentioned she had found abusiness school she was. More

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