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Show 284 bony, with a coat of crinkly hair beneath which he could feel veins and tendons. It did not move or otherwise respond to the pressure of Lorin's hand, and there was no give to the skin. Feeling sick, Lorin lifted his hand off, pulled it back beneath the covers, and turned onto his side, his back to the alarm clock, pulling the blankets over his head to keep his neck from being watched, and thought about his dream. He could not recover it, but he padded through countless dim corridors trying to find Elder Cobb, who had kept the keys to his Pontiac and all the paintings inside it, but he couldn't remember Elder Cobb's face, and the two or three people he passed s°tood with their backs to him, facing the grey walls. Presently he was aware of the strain of keeping the corridors present and full of people and concluded he was faking everything. Besides, Sorenson had come out of the bathroom and was nudging him on the shoulder. He was also aware that Sorenson had been talking to him for some time, cordially at first, then cautiously, then timidly. "The John's all yours, Elder." (Pause.) "Probably time to get up now, Elder, so we can hit the old streets." (Pause.) "We're running kind of late, Elder. Maybe you should get up now." "Eat shit, Mother Superior," Lorin said from under the blankets. It was his first and only outburst at Sorenson, and he was instantly sorry about it. A few days after this an odd thing happened with Sorenson. They came home early from tracting because they were due at a meeting with their district president that evening and Lorin wanted to bathe and change clothes first. While in the close company of his companion all day, walking door to door, sitting in the front seat of the car, sharing an elevator, Lorin had by degrees become aware, especially since lunch, that one of them smelled bad. It was a peculiar odor, something like burning garbage, |
