"You sound beautiful. I'd love to see a picture of you. What color are your eyes?"Jen typed back. "I have green eyes." She turned back to Michael. "Wh...t should I do, he wants to see a picture of me. Should I tell him I don't have any? " No, wait!" Michael clicked on a folder and found a picture of Jen in a short black dress. Her slim legs were crossed and she was showing a lot of thigh. Michael went into Photoshop and blacked out her eyes. Before Jen could object, he attached the photo and hit. ..ok...I'm up..." her daughter, Maria, grumbled, her voice soundingdifferent though in the subtle way only a mother and the person themselfwould recognize. As she rubbed her eyes, she looked at her pale hand withblack-painted fingernails, still getting used to it in her own way."Ok mom, I'm good now you can go," she said with a yawn and a stretch asshe got up out of bed, towering over Mary."Alright honey, I'll leave you be," Mary said with a slight giggle as shestepped out. Even with the size. At the top of the list I received from them was the Council Bus Service.I indignantly dragged my heels all the way to the job interview, determined they would find me unsuitable. They didn't, I got the gig, I was to become a Trolley Bus driver.15 years later I left the, now privatised, bus service as senior driving instructor and employment officer, but back then, I gave myself a month, tops. Life is full of surprises, so they say.In truth, I loved the job the moment I sat in a cantankerous, 30. Your car’s in the driveway.” He trotted to a pickup idling at the curb and took off.I walked out, looking for my car. There was a Fiat in the driveway, but it sure didn’t look like mine. It was the same year, model and color, but it was freshly washed and waxed, looking as if it had just come off the showroom floor. The tires were new, top-of-the-line Michelins, gleaming with Armor All. I looked closer. They were V rated, good for 149 miles per hour, easily twice what the car would do,.