edge back in the 1960s. Bookcases from floor to ceiling took up three of the four walls and still dozens of volumes spilled over, neatly stacked on the floor, tables, and other flat surfaces. The furnishings were old, worn, and clean, and as I settled into a chair at the kitchen table, decidedly comfortable.

He hummed as he cut several slices of fruit bread which was nothing more than fruit cake shaped like a loaf and saturated with a fruity, sweet, and high alcoholic volume liquor, called elven rum. 

“You look well.” I commented as Komen prepared our snack.

“Yes, yes.” He paused long enough to preen, running a hand down the front of his crisp white business shirt. “I’ve reinvented myself for the new millennium. Wisdom is respected once again, though I do not unde...

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