All he could discern from the general cacophony were the words, “The yeast is rising… The yeast is rising…”

¡But the feelings! ¡The grinding, the pulling, the aching! Ache oozed round some vague area round his middle. The alarm ’bout what it could possibly be or mean was worse than the pain.

& then it was o’er, & he could open his eyes. In the blurry light folk in the gray suits cheered. Their leader leaned right up close to him & patted him on the shoulder.

He said, “It’s o’er. It’s gone. It’s great.”


Doe, Oncology, Pull