I just wanted to sleep. I was so done for the day. The old man, who said his name was Edgemore, took Kitty off me and set him on a couch. There were other people in the room, crowding around the windows or settled in arm chairs in dark corners. One had a battery-operated light clipped to his forehead and was reading a book. Edgemore sat me in a soft chair and got some wet cloths and wiped my face and head as gently as a nurse. He then gave me a big cup of coffee. It wasn’t hot, and I didn’t care. My hands were shaking by this time. I offered him a candy bar, but he laughed and pointed at a case full of baked goods. He got me a scone.
“Harold,” he called out, and another old man at the window turned around. “Let me know if we have to go to the roof, okay?” He got a wave in return.
The old
