Angela Smithers prided herself on her rational, sensible approach to life. She was the sort of woman who arranged her spice rack alphabetically and could recite the precise date on which she'd last had her car's oil changed. She wore cardigans even in July, and kept her golden retriever, Waffles, on a strict schedule of morning walks and evening snuggles. To the outside world, she projected calm stability, the sort of woman who would never forget your birthday, who'd always have a spare umbrella, who could be depended on to keep her head when others were losing theirs.

Which was precisely why the arrival of the envelope-postmarked from Derbyshire, England, with a return address she didn't recognize-was so unsettling.

I was born in England, but have lived in Southern California for many years. I m now retired and live in the Pacific NW in a little seaside city amongst the giant redwoods and wonderful harbor, almost at the Oregon border. My husband and I have one cat, called Midnight and she is featured in two of my latest Sci-Fi short stories. I love Science Fiction, animals, and trying to help others. I publish under Doreen Milstead as well as my own name. My photo was taken right before the coronation of QE II in the UK.