"Thank you, honey. You made me proud."
I felt like a million dollars.
2. The Syndrome
Milton's eyeglasses glinted unsettlingly as he took in my crumpled clothes and unruly hair:
"So, you traveled all night, by yourself, in a hired car, to ask me this? She must mean all the world to you!"
He hasn't changed: cherubic, lecherous, bald, and clad in fading dungarees and Sellotaped, stapled sandals. Milton smelled of coffee grounds and incense.
He laid a hirsute hand on my shoulder and I retreated inadvertently and then apologized. He smiled mischievously:
"You are tired. Let's go to my office. You can refresh yourself there and I will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the Capgras Syndrome and never dared to ask."
"Capgras Syndrome???"
"Coffee first!" - Milton pronounced and wheeled me forward.