Chapter 26 Postscript
Harold Timms entered the vestibule dressed in a tailored blue suit. His face appeared years younger. Gone were the bloodshot eyes, the stooped back, the hesitant stutter. We embraced.
"You're looking great!" I said.
"Amazing what a good night's sleep will do." He smiled widely. "Well, three months of good sleep. My sister's cooking, too."
"No more hallucinations?" I asked.
"Naw. But I'm sorry to hear about your prize."
"It's all right. The Samuelson Committee would have had a hard time selecting me after what I did. I'm not losing sleep over it," I said. "Besides, I've heard it whispered, 'Funeral by funeral, the profession progresses.'"
"Let me fix your collar," Harold said, adjusting the tie strap under my morning coat. ...
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