During those initial sessions David had relegated himself to reading a book while Ramsey sat in a wingback chair near the window farthest from David.

It was shortly after Ramsey began to talk with David that he displayed his undiscovered talent.

“You’ve been trying to read that book, there on your desk for the last few times I have been here.” He said.

“Yes, well, I was just trying to give you the time you needed to decide if you were going to talk to me”

“The first time you opened the book you began to read on page twenty-three.  You wore that reddish sweater with a brown and yellow striped tie.  You left brown shoe had a long scratch along the inside step, like you got it caught on something.  You didn’t really read much because you only turned the page six times.”

David Voss noted the level of detail with which Ramsey described things about him.

“It’s kind of a boring book, really.  Do you read books, Ramsey?”

And that is how the opening appeared that allowed David Voss entry into the phobic and horrific world that Ramsey inhabited.

Many days, many sessions over the proceeding seven months had begun to show a much improved state of mind for the young man.  At times he appeared to be like any other young adult, he made small jokes showing that he had a sharp wit and contagious sense of humor.

Such was his progress that Dr. Voss prescribed Valium in small dosages, now, instead of the stronger tranquilizing drugs he sometimes designated for his other patients.

So why would he have such a sudden relapse Voss wondered.

Unless…unless it’s not his psychosis?

David Voss dressed quickly.  He put on a pair of jeans, and pullover shirt and his loafers.

Swiping the keys to his house and car from the mini bar in the living room he left his apartment and made his way to the parking lot.

Minutes later he was driving south down the Dallas North toll road.

Hell of a busy night David mused as a fourth ambulance over took him, lights and siren blaring as it sped ahead of him, either on its way to pick up a victim or getting that victim to the hospital.

This world is going to hell in a hand basket