Michael Malone - Weebly

interested. Polly had lost her friend.
"Your change." Miss Lattice coughed. "Polly! You
dropped your change."
"Gosh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
None of them ever does, thought the little
shopkeeper of sixtyfive slender years, who had once, to
cheers and whistles, danced the Charleston atop the
captain's table as the Queen Mary sailed across the
waltzing seas. And that girl had paid no attention to the
frowns on old deadened faces.
chapter 17
Fate is very old and tired. She leans more times
than not now on those hackneyed tricks that cost her no
imaginative energy. With the same trite scenarios she
used on Sumerians, she indiscriminately joins and
sunders us, destroys or saves us. She's done it so often,
and it must be hard to tell us apart. Hollywood's
screenwriters are far more ingenious than she in bringing
together a boy and a girl.
Movies had led Joy Strummer to believe that
someday her prince would come in a blackout, or a