
First Person
by E Ripley

In the lounge of a luxury hotel in Los Angeles, She observes the clientele and contemplates the mighty magnetism of California, the undeniable klaxon call heard first by the gold-diggers, then by the health-seekers, then the movie moguls. But what had become of the men who did not strike gold, those who could not be cured of their ailments, the ones who did not find fame? Where are the failures? Where are the women like her?