They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. The chapel was crowded to excess. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. ” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen. You can borrow any of my outfits anytime, you know. He could lose himself for hours at a time. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink.
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