Anyway, he arrives an hour late for the session. In fact, I think I was an hour early. I was an hour late. I'd been walking the streets alone, summoning my courage, intensely aware that one era of my life was about to end so another could begin. The next thing he starts in with this kooky chair - it's a bridge chair, basically, which his dad made for him up in Canader.
Screw fittings on the legs.
He works on it - Minnesota Fats assembling a cue. Then he asks for a basin of hot water, make it scalding he says. The kid rolls up his sleeves and puts his arms in up to here. I have borderline tracheitis. Snap to black.