* * * * *
Everybody has a name, and I knew if I went off somewhere quiet and
thought about it, mine would come to me. Meanwhile, I would tell the
girl that my name was ... Kevin O'Malley. Abruptly I realized that that
_was_ my name.
"Kevin," I told her. "John Kevin."
"Mister Kevin," she said, her words dancing with bright absurdity like
waterhose mist on a summer afternoon, "I wonder if you could help _me_."
"Happy to, miss," I mumbled.
She pushed a white rectangle in front of me on the painted maroon bar.
"What do you think of this?"