Thick blue veins criss-crossed his forearms and hands. His mouth seemed to flinch or squirm now and then and his left eye flickered steadily. I wouldn...t have hired him to clean the men's room."Right," I said and headed for the pre-fab green building in the outfield. The white-haired equipment man was hard at work along with one of his sons, a man of fifty or so who was called a clubhouse "boy." I introduced myself, both men squinted at me, measuring, and I said I needed a uniform and a. Panicking, I rushed over to the wall mirror and gazed into it, thefrightened face of Mrs Crawford gazing back at me. Stunned, I raised aboney hand to my face, feeling that aged, powdered skin, then rantrembling fingers through my permed and blue-rinsed hair, the old womanin the mirror mimicking my every move. This was not a dream. Horribly,impossibly, this was real. All my joints ached. The energy of youth hadleft me, and I felt enormously tired. A glance downwards revealed thateven my clothes. More

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