Alden Looney sloshed cabernet into wineglasses. "You look perfectly wonderful." He proffered one to Sandra. "Here's to the new you." He lifted his drink.

She raised hers to extraordinarily full lips. "It's funny, but I feel the same inside."

He nodded, hoping she wouldn't hear his pounding heart. She was dressed as usual, but today, the heave of her plain brown shirt didn't make him yawn. Instead, it made him pause, and then breathlessly crave for more.

"For example, the thing I still enjoy most in the world," Sandra said, sipping red wine, "is a good conversation."

He yanked his eyes off her chest. "And this new man is paying for," he gestured toward her vaguely, "all this."

She laughed, seemingly enjoying his apparent discomfort. "Why, dear, you aren't jealous of him already, are you?"

"Of course not."

She giggled.

He had replied too fast.

They sat in silence looking at each other. He felt the blood rushing to his face. He thought of the old Sandra to distract himself.

Sandra and Jim had moved into the house next-door over thirty years ago right around the time Alden set up his own practice. The kids came, grew up, and moved out. Jim passed on. A young blunt-featured Sandra grew into a portly iron-gray-haired woman, a passionate environmentalist. Suddenly, all that had changed.

To break the silence, he complimented her. "You seem so carefree."

She glanced at her wristwatch. "Thanks. It was nice of you to invite us over. He'll be here any minute."

He worried silently about the side effects of botox, silicone and saline-water implants, and all that went with plastic surgery.

He said, "How could you do this to yourself? You, an environmentalist and all."

She shrugged. "Cullen arranged it. He's a bioscientist, a bright one too -- I trust him."

He eased into the subject of her fiancé. "Let me guess. He's older and rich, isn't he?"

Her eyes, always her best feature to him, sparkled. "You told me not to marry someone with one foot in the grave."

Alden sighed. "Do you love him?"

"No, dear neighbor."

"Then why do you want to marry him?"

"'Cause he won't take no for an answer."

The doorbell interrupted them. It rang not once, but twice, then thrice.

With a touch of exasperation, he got up and ambled across the living room. "Impatient to see you, isn't he?" He heard her laugh behind him.

When he opened the door, the sight froze him. A young man, about half his age stood there.

The kid grinned, raised a right hand in greeting, presumably, and said, "I'm Cullen. You must be Alden, the neighbor confidant."

He tried to speak, but words failed him. Instead, he made an open-palmed gesture to say 'come in'.

Cullen pranced in. He took Sandra into his arms and planted a wet kiss on her.

Alden watched speechlessly. Did he imagine it, or did he see their tongues intertwine? He was glad he wasn't holding his glass. Surely, he would have crushed it to pieces. He found his drink and gulped it down. Now the couple paused to look at him expectantly.

"You old enough to drink?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cullen smiled innocently. "Funny you should say that -- I get that a lot at bars."

He snorted and gazed at her, while he poured wine.

She stared at Alden's hands. "Not too much now. I want him sober for the honeymoon -- Cullen's got us a suite in the new underwater resort in the Bahamas." She giggled again.

He'll dump you in days, he thought darkly.

# The next few days went slowly. She called him from the resort and they chatted awhile on each occasion. He could tell she was enjoying all the attention her new body got her. After honeymooning underwater, the newly-weds, on a whim, went on a cruise. He received emails, written from the ship's internet café.

Then, nothing. A month went by excruciatingly.

Finally, on a gray morning, while he visited her home to check the litter and fill a bowl with food for her cats as he did everyday during the time she was away, he heard a car outside. The house had a musty smell. The hairs on his freckled arms stood in the chill and his belly tingled in anticipation. He peered out of an upstairs window, its sill covered by a thin layer of dust.

It was a yellow cab. Sandra emerged alone, her drab tan coat failing to diminish the flamboyance of her body and perfect features.

He trotted to her front door. "Where's Cullen?"

"I'm leaving him, of course."

He sympathized immediately. "Good for you."

She looked at him sharply. "Did your psychiatrist's mind see this coming?"

"No," he said, trying his best to keep his face duly concerned even as he whooped with joy inside.

Her eyes sparkled again. "I bet you wished him gone."

He made a wry face. "You know me." He tilted his head. "So why did he want to break up?"

"You silly man," she said, "you must mean why I wanted to break up with him. He still wants to stay married."

He rocked himself on heel and toes. "Yes, yes."

"'Cause I could never get what I enjoy most -- the young, Alden, I'll have you know, don't understand conversation at all."

He blew out a breath. "I'm glad you've finally come to your senses, Sandra. Don't you wish you hadn't changed your body now?"

"I've always been in my senses. I wouldn't let anything artificial inside my body. All the implants you see are 100% natural from Cullen's experiment in stem cell research -- my own bone marrow cells grown into tissue."

Abruptly he felt contrite. "Haven't you been hard on him after all that he did for you?"

She shook her head. "He's gone back to work. The world needs his research more than he needs me." She moved closer to him. "And I still have you to talk with, don't I?"