Suzan Dwyer could not get Charles Lambert out of her mind.
She spent most of the night tossing and turning, and when she slept, she dreamt of young men on the metro platform who entered the subway cars and rode away.Just as they did so, the street elevator descended, and when the doors opened, a sentry of elderly men shuffled out.Suzan counted 32 seniors who all looked alike, stooped and wrinkled, with tufts of white hair along their shiny top pates, their flesh pale and crepe-thin.They all wore brown slacks and leather-patch jackets, as well as expensive watches that hung loosely on their thin wrists.Suzan heard their feet shuffling along the concrete with a swish and swoosh as they walked in the opposite direction from where she sat.Rooted to the bench, she watched, fascinated, as the o
