“What do you need?”
“Quiet.”
I crossed to the glass partition and closed the blinds.
“Sit down.”
He lowered himself into the chair.
I knelt in front of him.
His hands trembled against his thighs.
“Head?”
“Three.”
“Vision?”
“Clear.”
“Thoughts?”
“Too fast.”
“Five things you can see.”
His eye moved around the office.
“Desk. Lamp. Your shirt. Window. Red folder.”
“Four things you hear.”
“The ventilation fan. Rain. Caleb moving something. You breathing.”
“Three things touching you.”
“The chair. My boots. Your hands.”
I took both of them in mine.
His shoulders lowered a fraction.
“Do you want to go upstairs?”
“In a minute.”
“Medication?”
“Not yet.”
“Should we call Dr. Whitcomb?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I did it.”
