The woman sitting in the coffee shop opposite me had once been my English student.  She’s in her seventies now and I am halfway through my eighties.  From time to time, she assists me with some of my writing projects. Recently, she did a final edit of my memoir which I began in 20

As I walked down a hall at the retirement center the other day, a man tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around, I saw his expression was friendly though it bore the look of surprise. “Say, I finished your book, Gothic Spring last night. Ya know? It was pretty good.”   That said,