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I was the perfect martyr for that mission, in plainclothes uncut hair. While shaking hands, accepting the position, I factored the bus fare — and it was twenty cents more than I could spend. "Twenty cents have you, my new employer doubling as my friend?" Because I knew that I would never find another job quite like that again. I was the perfect mother for his messing. I cleaned up without care. It seemed like he was giving me his blessing to toss off the nightmare, but stuck with enough dreams for many men, of course within that lot would be a couple nights that would frighten. But I knew that I would never find another guy quite like him again. You were the perfect model for medicine; a sick day was not too rare. Through your bouts you taught one simple lesson: to read up and lay bare all our concerns, 'cause no amount of Ibuprophen is going to help us now. These things, they always catch up in the end. And I know that I will never find another one quite like you again.
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