Photo Source: Flickr He was an old man. Through exercise, diet, genes, and luck, he remained trim and unbent. The calendar told the truth. Eighty-five years were behind him, and seven years since his wife died. He checked his watch, and downed the blue pill with the bottle of water provided in the back of the limo, as he rode toward the brothel on the outskirts of Las Vegas. His name was Alan. He had flown from the East Coast for no reason other than his current purpose, and shook...