"And make the coffee black—and hot," I said.
"Yes, sir," she said in mock subservience.
She had her breakfast with me. The fluffy scrambled eggs and warm toast began to nestle comfortably in my stomach, and Paula nestled comfortably on the edge of the bed sipping her coffee, her hair radiant flows of rich browns and mahoganies capturing and transmitting the sunlight from the window.
Her red lips parted to reveal gleaming white teeth when she laughed intimately, happily, at my running humor. I relaxed, my mind at ease, Dr. Leopold Moriss momentarily forgotten....
She displayed my suit proudly on its coat hanger, freshly cleaned and pressed, the stack of four new shirts still in their cellophane wrappers. I watched her retreat from the room with something inside me, my heart perhaps, hurting.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror putting a knot in the tie. It had been a long time since I'd had a choice of ties, ten of them. I inspected it in the glass. Then the realization that it wasn't a new tie rose to consciousness. It was Dr. Moriss'.
I tore it off, ripping the collar of the shirt in my anger. I stood there, panting with emotion. My purpose was back! Slowly, like the flames of a charcoal fire fanned by a gust of wind, the fire of hate in my eyes died down, leaving only the glowing coals, which would be unnoticed behind the mask of a smile.
I practiced that smile while I put on another shirt and knotted another of Dr. Leopold Moriss' ties about my neck. I had played enough poker in penny ante dives up and down the west coast during my wanderings to perfect the lazy unrevealing poker smile.
There was a knock. Paula's voice sounded. "Are you dressed?"
"Come in!" I called.