Not that phony kind, where you are just being who peoplewant you to be, but the real kind, where she was just a good person. But,there was something ...bout the Mom. She loved her Mom, but even she wascreeped out a little by something about her. I hoped that more memorieswould come, if I was going to be trapped in this body for long.Finally, Mom came back. I guess it was a Freudian slip, but after thememories started coming, I couldn't help thinking of her that way alittle. She took one look. ?I got a call from my uncle today. It seemed that your interview did not go well. He was puzzled that after warning me that his office was a place of business, and that his office manager was very old fashion, you showed up with your slinky black dress and new nose ring.? Her eyes took on a pleading quality now and the muffled sounds from behind the tape took on the rapidity of excuses. My stern look hardened even further causing her to pause her pleading.?Look Sarah, I don’t care if you don’t. More

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