Chapter 18Sartre let the shower cascade over him. At first it was freezing cold, but he welcomed the stinging droplets. It made him feel alive. When the water subsequently warmed, Sartre placed his hands against the wall and breathed. He had lived a long life and this close brush with death made him appreciate living. Again. He couldn’t ignore the comforting feeling he felt when he thought of Madsen.
He drank in some water from the shower head and then spit it out. He pumped the Phoeban liquid soap made with lye and oils into his hand and lathered his body. He took some of the soap that he squeezed on a fingertip to massage his gum line and used an up and down brushing motion over his teeth. Although he tried to focus on getting cleaned up, his mind drifted again to Madsen.
They’d almost
