At the end a stone built converted barn. Just right for a secluded, private, weekend.The door was opened by Marie. Fifty years old, five foot six, bru...nette hair in a bob. She was healthy, fit looking, although she carried the padding appropriate for a real woman of her age. She looked just as she did in her pictures, a good sign. She smiled, said hello and kissed me on the cheek. She smelled clean and fresh. Chanel Mademoiselle? Her husband, John appeared. This was the moment I was most. . yes, I am registered, thank you. I already know who is going to win, though," I answered, opening my mouth and inserting my foot.She raised her eyebrows at this statement. "And how would you know that?" she asked."Simple. I ran a model of all known facts: the polls, past voting results, the economy, etc. Then I plugged in a percentage for the 'unknown' factor, and input it to my computer. The results were that the current seated president will win," I told her.She shook her head. "If only it. “What do you want me to do?”I looked at Bink. “We talked. Show ‘er the picture.”Bink pulled her phone out of her pocket, poked at the screen a bit, and... “Seriously? Bangs?” the stylist said. “Barb?”“As long as she doesn’t spike and dye it green, I’m good.”“Bangs,” Bink said. “Me ‘n’ Mandy both.”While they were working us over, Mizz Sara showed up to meet Barb. The two of them took me and Bink to the Food Court for dinner, then brought us home.When we walked in the door, Ben stopped pushing. Off in the distance was an old white-haired man jerking away as quickly as his droopy shoulders that hung off his baggy light blue golf shirt would let him. He had a googly-eyed gaze and a slack-jawed expression that looked as if he was letting out an involuntary constant stream of drool. I turned my head away from the man and hung it down so my hair would cover my face. I straightened out my T-shirt, and told Rick, “Don’t look. Just get dressed.” Of course he looked and just started laughing.