Ed told her. The whole works. Everything.
When he had finished, Ruth sat back, her face white, hands trembling. "I see," she murmured. "No wonder you're upset." She drank a little cold coffee, the cup rattling against the saucer. "What a terrible thing."
Ed leaned intently toward his wife. "Ruth. Do you think I'm going crazy?"
Ruth's red lips twisted. "I don't know what to say. It's so strange. ."
"Yeah. Strange is hardly the word for it. I poked my hands right through them. Like they were clay. Old dry clay. Dust. Dust figures." Ed lit a cigarette from Ruth's pack. "When I got out I looked back and there it was. The office building. Like always."
"You were afraid Mr Douglas would bawl you out, weren't you?"
"Sure. I was afraid — and guilty." Ed's eyes flickered. "I know what you're thinking. I was late and I couldn't face him. So I had some sort of protective psychotic fit. Retreat from reality." He stubbed the cigarette out savagely. "Ruth, I've been wandering around town since. Two and a half hours. Sure, I'm afraid. I'm afraid like hell to go back."
"Of Douglas?"
"No! The men in white." Ed shuddered. "God. Chasing me. With their damn hoses and — and equipment."
Ruth was silent. Finally she looked up at her husband, her dark eyes bright. "You have to go back, Ed."