A Strange Greeting,a True Feeling
Last week I was invited to a doctor’s meeting at the Ruth hospital for incurables.In one of the wards a patient,an old man,got up shakily from his bed and moved towards me.I could see that he hadn't long to 1 ,but he came up to me and placed his right foot close mine on the floor.
“Frank!” I cried in astonishment.He couldn’t 2 ,as I knew,but all the time 3 his foot against mine.
My 4 raced back more than thirty years to the 5 days of 1941,when I was a student in London.The 6 was an air-raid shelter,in which I and about hundred other people slept every night.Two of the regulars were Mrs.West and her son Frank.
7 wartime problems,we shelter-dwellers got to 8 each other very well.Frank West 9 me because he wasn’t 10 ,not even at birth.His mother told me he was 37 then,but he had 11 of a mind than a baby has.His “ 12 ” consisted of rough sounds——sounds of pleasure or anger and 13 more.Mrs.West,then about 75,was a strong,capable woman,as she had to be,of course,because Frank 14 on her entirely.He needed all the 15 of a baby.
One night a policeman came and told Mrs.West that her house had been flattened by a 500-pounder.She 16 nearly everything she owned.
When that sort of thing happened,the rest of us helped the 17 ones.So before we 18 that morning,I stood beside Frank and 19 my right foot against his.They were about the same size.That night,then,I took a pair of shoes to the shelter for frank.But as soon as he saw me he came running and placed his right foot against mine.After that,his 20 to me was always the same
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