The doctor cleared his throat, glanced significantly at Julie. "Well, yes," he said, edging closer to Marc. "I'll run along. But I want you to answer a few simple questions for me first. Is that all right?"
"Sure! Sure," Marc said feverishly. "I'll answer your questions. Only make it fast, doctor. I'm a busy man, you know."
"All right," the doctor said, taking a pencil from his pocket and carefully spreading a notebook over one knee. "I'm going to give you a list of words and I want you to give me the first response that comes into your mind. Understand?"
"Sure, doctor," Marc replied. "You say a word and I come back at you with the first thing it reminds me of. Only hurry, will you?"
"Fine." The doctor poised the pencil over the notebook. "Now this is the first word. Black."
"Future," Marc answered absently, gazing fearfully at George's chair.
"Hot," the doctor continued.
"Seat," Marc replied, still absorbed in the chair.
"Cut."
"Throat."