Graden was not sure how he managed to remember the where, the when, but the next month he dragged himself to the same place and bought one of those ginger teas with citrus he’d taken to drinking to settle his stomach and his nerves. He didn’t have money for sugar, but he’d grown used to the taste without. He sat in the same corner, sipping his tea until it was gone and lingering so long he thought he must have gotten the day wrong. Just when he was expecting to be kicked out, he saw the same woman enter, purchase a tea, sit.
He pretended he was still working on the tea after all. The doctor arrived almost immediately, as though he’d been hiding in wait somewhere, and passed over an envelope as he sat.
“The next three months?” asked the woman, and when the doctor nodded, she pocketed it.
