David repeated the words over and over as he studied the series of thin lines that gerrymandered his living room ceiling. “… had the funny habit of looking like a rabbit.” Where had he read that? What were the exact words? No matter, he decided. None of the cracks looked anything like a rabbit. Besides, the super had promised they would be plastered over, so it was a fruitless exercise anyhow. He rolled to one side, tucked an arm under his head and stared out the window. The outlines of buildings across the alley undulated through a cold, driving rain. It had been nearly two days since the nightmarish session with Dockerty. The morning after the inquiry David had tried to conduct his affairs at the hospital as usual. It was like working in an ice box. No virus could have spread through the wards faster than news of the tacit indictment brought against him. Most of the nurses and medical staff took special pains to avoid him.
