Harry was dressed, hat brim shading his eyes, when an orderly brought a breakfast tray.
“Egg white omelet,” the orderly said, “whole wheat toast with Smart Balance.”
“I didn’t have a heart attack,” Harry said. “I’m here because you think I’m crazy.”
“I got no opinion,” the orderly said.
Harry went into the bathroom, ran the cold water, scrubbed his face, stood over the toilet, peed. His urine smelled rank. He came back out and sat on a chair, which he scuffed up to the table holding the tray.
“Did you wash your hands?” the orderly asked.
“Every morning, I shower,” Harry said. “Wash my whole body. Pull on my shorts, slacks, you get the drift.… My hands, hey, I don’t wear gloves. My hands get dirty. My cock’s been covered by my boxers. It’s the cleanest part of me. I wash my hands before not after I piss.”
“Like I said,” the orderly shrugged, “I got no opinion.”