I let fly. "For the record, I want my pants. I'm certainly no patient
in this morgue, and I'm not going to be treated like one, so whatever
you or anyone else has got to say to me is not going to be while I'm
as bare as a baby. My mind's made up," and I scrunched together
ungracefully on the little space that remained on my end of the cot
and pulled the sheet over my head. Kid stuff, and we both knew it.
He didn't say anything, although I could feel his eyes boring through
the flimsy sheet, and I lay there until I felt the springs creak as he
got up and I could hear his footsteps retreating. When he came back
with my clothes over his arm I was sitting up. While I was dressing he
tried to talk to me, but I would have none of it.