"I know a man named Walter Walloroy in Galveston," he said to Adrian. "He drinks beer at the Gizmo bar, and is retired."
"What is the superlative of so what?"
"But I have never been there," said Anthony.
"And I have never been in Kalamazoo."
"I know a girl in Kalamazoo. Her name is Greta Harandash. She is home today with a cold. She is prone to colds."
But Adrian was a creature both uninterested and uninteresting. It is very hard to confide in one who is uninterested.
"Well, I will live with it a little while," said Anthony. "Or I may have to go to a doctor and see if he can give me something to make all these people go away. But if he thinks my story is a queer one, he may report me back to the center, and I might be reclassified again. It makes me nervous to be reclassified."
So he lived with it a while, the rest of the day and the night. He should have felt better. A man had come that afternoon and fixed his kidneys; but there was nobody to fix his nervousness and apprehensions. And his skittishness was increased when the children hooted at him as he walked in the morning. That hated epithet! But how could they know that his father had been a dealer in used metals in a town far away?
He had to confide in someone.