Thousand: Four Hundred Twenty-One

nose softens some when he yawns. His teeth are yellow and crooked, but they’re all there. Scratching his cheek, the man flips through a canvas bound ledger he’s flopped open on the wooden counter. “You Went?” says the man, frowning at the page. “Came?” says Bernie. “Came?” The man echoes the word, mystified. “Went! Your name! Went!” “Oh! Oh, yes. Yes. Went. That’s me. Bern. Bernard. Bernard Went.” Bernie thinks the warmth has calmed the shivering, but a sudden violent shake suggests it was just the surprise. “Didn’t dress for the desert,” observes the man with what Bernie hopes is