Hal was in the second floor loo across from his room gazing into the mirror above the sink when he heard Christopher’s car drive up outside. He had been scrutinizing his face, humbly wondering how to make such a handsome man as he appear to be a sickly, withering near-cadaver wasting away further by the hour. He had just about decided that the task was impossible (and what a curse it was to have such striking, manly features at a time like this!) when he heard the car, and he stood tippy-toe as best he could trying to catch sight of it from a high, tiny window overlooking the front lawn.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” he growled, and he propped himself up higher with one foot upon the seat of the commode and the other upon a small, wooden laundry hamper. And sure enough he could j...

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