The Inspiration: A story: She was at the bar, dress the color of arterial blood, mahogany hair so rich a man would do anything to see it fanned out across a pillow. I’m one of those men. Like the dead man I had just left. She picked up the tumbler swallowing the amber liquid without a flinch. Scotch. Neat. I think I’m in love. “Dead?” “Ma’am, you don’t seem to