"That would be the number one reason he sent only the information on the Indianapolis location," Rose grinned. "He only tossed out the other two optio...s to get us thinking that we could influence his decision. Here's the profile." She passed around packets of material. It seems that there had been a religious film producer on the south side of Indy that had their own studio. I say 'had been.' They'd stayed committed to 16mm film production for too long. Their entire business had crashed when. This thought consumed him. He sprang up from the floor, ran to the window, and jumped. He did not fall, opening his eyes he realized he was souring over the city, like a bird. He soured for a few minutes and decided to land. As soon as he thought to land, he dropped to the ground, landing on his feet. He had traveled clear across town, all the way to the ghetto. “ Hey baby, where’d you come from?” Said a voice behind himHe turned and was greeted by a rough looking prostitute. Her smell. With a trembling finger, Pop pointed to one of the death announcements: Rose Marie Johnson, age 85, died of complications related to Alzheimer’s disease. John was confused. Never in all of his imaginings had Rose been an 85 year old woman. And how could she have written all of these letters if she had died in January? John hadn’t even received the first letter until February. He gave his grandfather a questioning glance. The old man took a deep breath, then told John a story. “Rose Johnson was. He looked at my breasts and then moved behind me and unhooked my bra. He slid the straps past my arms and dropped it to the floor. I turned around for him. I was feeling very submissive. He stood there admiring my breasts and then came around behind me and unzipped my skirt. It landed around my shoes so I stepped out of it. I stood before him in just my shoes and panties. I was hoping he wouldn't notice how wet they were. He came close and kissed me again. This time his hands roamed over my.