“He both feared and detested the phone, and he adamantly refused to tell people his name. “I don’t want anyone to know that I haven’t been murdered,” he said. I doubt that I’m psychotic, but I do hate phones. I don’t like people much, either, especially when I have to observe complicated rules of etiquette like those that the phone requires. “What if they remember that they didn’t kill me?” my patient asked. His logic was internal, and unassailable. He complained about the noises in his head. “C...an’t hear myself think. Mostly because of the elevators whizzing up and down, and the doors that whoosh open and click shut.” “What about voices?” I asked him. “Just Winston Churchill. He resembles J. Edgar Hoover, and he recites T. S. Eliot’s Murder in the Cathedral Have you ever noticed how the past and present have a way of converging? I think it’s a warning.” He had been a successful accountant in Boston. One day, he returned home from work and entered the lobby of his apartment building just as a man threw himself off the top of the stairs with a rope around his neck.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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