Itried to calm her, but it had not worked. "You can go write somewhereelse Lex. Go out to the house if need be, but I will not be able toremember al... this crap if I can't use my method. So, be quiet and leaveme alone!" she shouted. Rather than get upset, I began laughing whichput Jenny in an even fouler mood.It wasn't much longer and Jenny was out the door and I was able tocomplete the final edit on the story about two American women running fortheir lives from terrorists in London. As I. Clean and tidy but skinny and with no dress sense, she looked like a long-term singleton who was happy these days with her cats and the TV.She worked on her own in a tiny shop – no receptionist, even. And she was open on Saturday afternoons. I walked quickly round there, because time was marching on.She was open and the shop was empty. She was reading a magazine but leapt to her feet when I walked in. Glasses, wrinkles, pale complexion, dowdy white blouse and knee-length green skirt.“Mr, ah….”. More

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