.." I caught a glimpse of his right fist directed towards my left eye and reacted, ducking so he caught the top of my head and grabbing his forearm with my left hand. It was only seconds before he was writhing in pain, begging for me to let go of his arm. I released him, but not before his screams attracted attention."What's going on here?" It was Sally, the Human Resources clerk I had met the day before. She closed the mailroom door and spoke to us in whispers, wanting to know what the disagreement was about. Phil blamed me for starting the fight and I said it wasn't a fight, but he was the one that swung first. Sally warned us about causing disruptions, that company policy strictly forbids it. We both agreed with her, saying it wouldn't happen again. "Shake hands and go back to work," Sally said, pleased with how she had handled an unpleasant situation.But Phil refused to shake hands with me. He must have seen how I grinned at him when I offered my hand. Sally's negotiated peace. ?" It takes time," she repeated, firmly, "and you should not mock thegifted." She wagged a finger in his face and said, sternly, "If I canturn you into the pretty young girl you wish to be, imagine what elseI can turn you into!"Mick raised his hands in mock surrender and the old woman laughed, andMick breathed a sigh of relief.I I IHe was stunned to find his pickup parked at the old woman's gardengate, and even more stunned when he discovered the part he'd beenhunting wrapped in a clean shop rag on the passenger floorboard. Howthe hell did she...? but then he thought, Hah! Silly question! Mickexamined the carburetor bowl in his hand, amazed. The thing lookedbrand-new, but he knew for a fact that the last of its kind rolled outthe factory door in 1966. Damn, he smiled to himself, the old batreally is a witch!He chuckled as he turned around, intent on thanking her for the part,but the gate was gone. Her entire garden - the trees and brook andsinging bird - had somehow morphed.
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