art by Shothot Designs
Supply and Demand
by William Meikle
The man who walked into my office was old-school through and through. A squad of little old ladies on Harris had toiled for years to make his suit, his school tie was knotted just right, and his brogues squeaked as he walked across the room. He looked to be in his seventies, but held his back ramrod straight. He strode into the room as if he owned it and thrust a hand at me that I couldn't refuse to shake.
"Thanks for seeing me, Doctor," he said.
In truth, I didn't have any option. All psych-cases from the ER were referred straight to me, and the call had come in about the strange little man in reception less than five minutes before.
I didn't quite know what to make of him yet. All I knew was that he had thrown a screaming fit when an orderly approached him.
He sat down across the desk from me and smiled.
"I'm not mad, you know?"
"Prove it," I said, smiling back.
He crossed his legs, making sure that the seams on his trouser legs were straight and that no ankle was showing above his socks before he was happy to relax.
"Do you believe in God, Doctor?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good. That will make this easier. I started to notice nearly thirty years ago," he said.