Part One, Dot Becomes More Than A Neighbor
"Don't get any ideas. It's just lunch," Dot warned.
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 her chest. She only has two small bu...