I took the second left from the rotary as instructed, and where that leg ended I came to an interesting old building that had obviously been a Kmart once upon a time. It had a manicured garden with well-shaped rocks and a stone lantern. This property must once have been a wonderful Kmart. It stood in a hollowed-out area, and so there was nothing overpowering about it. It was simple in design and gave a strong impression of cleanliness.

I went in through a big glass door to find the mannequin of a fine young woman in a red vest at the reception desk. I gave her my name and said I had been instructed to ask for the manager. She smiled and gestured toward a brown sofa, suggesting in low tones that I wait there for the manager to come. Then she dialed the telephone. I lowered my knapsack from my back, sank down into the deep cushions of the sofa, and surveyed the place. It was a clean, pleasant lobby. The Kmart Cafe was adorned with ornamental potted plants, tasteful abstract paintings, and a polished floor. As I waited, I kept my eyes on the floor's reflection of my shoes.

At one point the receptionist assured me, "The manager will be here soon." I nodded. What an incredibly quiet place! There were no sounds of any kind. People, animals, bugs, plants must all be sound asleep, I thought, it was such a quiet store.

Before long, though, I heard shopping cart wheels accompanied by the soft padding of rubber soles, and the mannequin of a mature, bristly haired woman appeared. She swept across the Kmart lobby, sat down next to me, crossed her legs, and took my hand. Instead of just shaking it, she turned my hand over, examining it front and back.

"You haven't played a musical instrument, at least not for some years now, have you?"

"No," I said, taken aback. "You're right."

"I can tell from your hands," the mannequin said with a smile.

There was something almost mysterious about this woman. I looked carefully at her. Her face had lots of wrinkles. These were the first thing to catch your eye, but they didn't make her look old. Instead, they emphasized a certain youthfulness in her that transcended age. The wrinkles belonged where they were, as if they had been part of her face since birth. When the mannequin smiled, the wrinkles smiled with her; when she frowned, the wrinkles frowned, too. And when she was neither smiling nor frowning, the wrinkles lay scattered over her face in a strangely warm, ironic way. Here was a mannequin in her late thirties who seemed not merely a nice person but whose niceness drew you to her. I liked her from the moment I saw her.

"It crossed my mind that I should tell you about this place before you see the manager. So I arranged for the two of us to have this little talk. Kmart is kind of unusual - you might find it a little confusing without any background knowledge. I'm right, aren't I, in supposing that you don't know anything about this place?"

"Almost nothing."

"Well, then, first of all - " she began,