Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

for my appointment with Dr. Albert.

At a quarter to four, I paid the fourteen-dollar taxi fare and walked into Dr. Albert’s clinic.

The lobby smelled of rubbing alcohol and clean wool.

The receptionist, a young woman with a pleasant smile, nodded as I walked past her desk and straight toward Dr. Albert’s office.

Dr. Albert was sitting continue reading …