Two seemingly respectable women come up to an old Jenny and show her an envelope full of money and promise to share the booty if she'll give them ten thou as an act of faith. Her life savings are under the mattress covered with rust stains and counting. They are as wrinkled as prunes but negotiable. The two women take the money and disappear. Not all knives are for stabbing the exposed belly.
Rock climbs on rock and it only makes a seashore.
Old Jenny has lost her belief in mattresses and now she has no wastebasket in which to keep her youth. And I. I too. I'm undergoing open-heart surgery. And I. I too again. I built a summer house on Cape Ann.