Jack walked out of the office into the sultry miasma of early evening, the sounds of the city colliding with what promised to be the mother of all migraines. With what was left of his brain function after talking to Serena, he noted that the itching was almost gone. One or two more treatments at most. Suddenly he felt a pang as if something important had happened and he had missed it, or lost something that had been important to him. He shook his head sending slivers of glass through his brain. Maybe he should go on vacation. He tried to picture a restful place with no Serena and no Arthur, but his thoughts failed to visualize where that could be. The best he could do was go home and treat his crabs and get a good night's sleep. At least he had clean sheets.