By John Alfred Taylor
Read by Alasdair Stuart
“Now paint in little white eye sockets.” Colin told Briony. “And teeth at the bottom.” He’d already had her draw India-ink crossbones under the big black mole.
“You’re sure this won’t piss-off your dermatologist?” Briony asked, squinting in concentration as she bent to her task at his left side.
“Not Doc Schulmann. He likes his laughs. Should have heard him joking when he snipped off the tags in my armpit.”
(Colin hoped he and the Doctor would still be laughing two hours from now, but wasn’t going to bother Briony with gloomy possibilities. At least his mole had smooth edges and was still all one color.)