Shirtless in Comfrey

Grace Zebriskia gasped when seeing The Musician pass earlier this morning on his way over to Wheeler Wilson’s Japanese house.

“Good morning, Grace.”

“Good *morning*, Mr. Musician. How… how are you?”

“Fine Grace, fine. Never mind all this. I’m fine. Have a good day.”

“You too sir!”

—-

Deep in meditative thought, Jimmy’s bunkmate Rey Wisa did not turn in his seat to look, but only echoed a vacant hello to The Musician’s passing hello. He knew what had happened.

—–

He stops in front of Grace’s twin cousin Jowday and asks if Wheeler is up yet. “Yes sir,” she replied, markedly not as surprised with The Musician’s appearance as her virtual doppleganger. He briefly wonders why before moving on.

—–

“Musician! What have you done to yourself?!”

“I got rid of the stigmata, Wheeler. Jimmy fixed me up. Said he did the same thing for his astronomer friend Philip back in Australia.”

“Can you *undo* it?” she asked with mouth still dropped.

He paused, disappointed in her reaction. Then: “I think not.”

“Well throw a shirt on all that at least, for Christ’s sake. The Millers are waiting for us in the gazebo.”

—–

The Musician then rummaged through his inventory for a suitable breakfast shirt. Not too punk but not too tame. And, obviously, with long sleeves.