Whoever killed malcolm had come from the woods on

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Unformatted text preview: n-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, loafers, no socks. I was then twenty-four years old and because I owned a business I was slowly turning my thoughts away from college and toward a career. Very slowly. I had long hair and still dressed like a student. I generally gave little thought to what I wore or what image I portrayed. This lack of concern was not shared by all. Mr. Mitlo grabbed me on the sidewalk and shoved me into his small haberdashery. "I been waiting for you," he said with a thick accent, one of the few in Clanton. He was a Hungarian and had some colorful history of escaping from Europe while leaving behind a child or two. He was on my list of human interest stories to pursue as soon as football season was over. "Look at you!" he sneered as I stood just inside his door, by a rack of belts. But he was smiling and with foreigners it's easy to dismiss their bluntness due to translation problems. I sort of looked at myself. What exactly was the problem? Evidently, there were many. "You are a professional," he informed me. "A very important man in this town, and you are dressed like, uh, well..." He scratched his bearded chin as he searched for the proper insult. I tried to help. "A student." "No," he said, wagging an index finger back and forth as if no student had ever looked that bad. He gave up on the put-down and continued the lecture. "You are unique—how many people own a newspaper? You are educated, which is rare around here. And from up North! You are young, but you shouldn't look so, so, immature. We must work on your image." We went to work, not that I had a choice. He advertised heavily in theTimes, so I certainly couldn't tell him to take a hike. Plus, he made sense. The student days were gone, the revolution was over. I had escaped Vietnam and the sixties and college, and, though I wasn't ready to settle down to a wife and parenthood, I was beginning to feel my age. "You must wear suits," he decided as he went through racks of clothes. Mit...
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This note was uploaded on 07/18/2010 for the course LIT 301 taught by Professor Dra during the Spring '10 term at American College of Computer & Information Sciences.

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