After playing and singing for other patients, I moved on to Len's room.
He sat, waiting for me, wrapped again in a heap of blankets. I noticed that figures of deer and eagles and wolves were woven into the fabric of these warm throws.
The walls of his room were blank and his only other possessions, an ashtray and a pack of open cigarettes, sat on his bedside table.
What are your feelings for Len at this point? Describe.