Ralph sighed and gazed at pebbles between his slippered feet. He was unusually lucid today. The sign says, “Mental health facility” but “It’s a madhouse here;” is what the residents say. The words sting.
At three: Four siblings, five cousins in grandma’s house. Madhouse!
Eight: Moody stepfather, temper control set on mad. Madhouse!
Nineteen: Off campus house with four college buddies. Madhouse!
Thirty-six: Brief tenure as cut-throat attorney – Madhouse!
Forty-eight: Stock broker. – Madhouse!
Fifty-two: Bankrupt, wife left, ulcer surgery, auto repossessed, phone ringing. Madhouse!
Sixty: Echoing in his ears, “It’s a madhouse here.”
Too lucid today; he regressed into silence.