He still couldn’t get over it. The soreness had been with him for several years, too; and without it he felt almost giddy and light. But more, he felt like running, really running—not away from anyone as usual, but just for the joy of it. So he stood up and ran as fast as he could across the street, behind the buildings, to the riverbank. It seemed that in some way he couldn’t fathom, the trees and sky and riverbank were all his—his and everyone else’s, too. He ran up and down so buoyantly that he was laughing out loud until finally he felt drained—and ready to think. He hardly remembered crossing the street again and sitting down on the same bench on the psych center lawn.

By now it was nearing 8 o’clock. Outpatients and center attendants began arriving for the day, parking their cars in the lot to the left. Gregory stared at the people; they looked okay on the outside, he thought, but they wouldn’t be there if they didn’t have troubles. And inside, unknown to the doctors or psychologists or dentists, was some guy they all thought was a nut. Only that nut could do things that could make people right.

Gregory tested his teeth again; what would he do if they suddenly wobbled? But they wouldn’t, he thought triumphantly, remembering and still feeling the unique sense of certainty that he’d experienced when … when the custodian did whatever it was he did. There it was, Gregory realized, the thought he’d been putting to the back of his mind: He wasn’t exactly sure if the man had actually touched him, or only looked at him. But what difference did that make? This Christ had credentials!

He breathed deeply, freely, noticing something else. Until up to right now, he’d always breathed tightly. It felt as if he had more room in his lungs, or as if his lungs had more room in his ribs, or…. And that thought clued Gregory in to a further realization: his fear was gone. Here he was, sitting on a bench like anyone else, not wondering what people thought of him, or if he looked like a bum, or if some cop was going to challenge him just because he always looked as if he’d slept in his clothes for a week, which he usually had. He even found himself smiling at a passersby; not faking it, either.