***
Arriving home from the office, there comes a knock on my apartment door before I can tend to Douglas.
Strange.
Through the peep hole I recognize the trim athletic form of Ann Cromwell, or whatever is her real name, her look radiating calm, cool confidence.
I open expressing pleasant surprise.
“An official visit, doctor. We check on those collecting disability.”
The ruse continues, though we both know the real story.
“Of course, Ms. Cromwell, come in,” having no reason not to play along.
“There are those who accept the payments fraudulently,” she declares most officiously.
“Well Douglas remains unable to work. He has a bit of a mobility problem right now.”
Yes, why not play along? And it is true, since Douglas lies thoroughly bound in his Segufix restraints patiently wait
