Dot is my next-door neighbor. She is seventy-one, a widower, about four feet six, petite, and has white hair. I have always liked Dot. She is easy to get along with and funny. For her age, Dot is a very attractive woman with a good figure. Until a few weeks ago, that was Dot-my neighbor. My perception changed one morning when Dot and I were talking. Dot kept pulling her cardigan across
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