Chapter Thirty
I’m collared. Catching a glimpse of myself in the entryway atrium, one window reflects my image. About my neck is a seemingly seamless circle of shiny stainless steel identical to Johnny’s. With my tee shirt low at the neck, the implement is most evident. It is snug, my neck measured weeks during my initial visit. In deference to employment, which now is no longer, the implement of servitude was withheld. Now my status is not to be denied.
Precision made, there is a hinge not noticeable, waiting to be placed about my neck, the ends to align perfectly with internal spring clasps which when joined to close, cannot again be released. But for cutting with a hacksaw or blow torch, it’s permanent. I cannot remove it... nor can anyone else.
So I stand in wait for wife Linda, co
