Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

It's just logistics.

The floor drain backed up every Tuesday.

Gav kicked the metal grate. Oily water crept over the edge, smelling of rust and something curdled.

“You gonna just look at it?”

The voice came from the cot. Sal, his partner, was cleaning his fingernails with a Bowie knife. Sal was always cleaning something. His nails. His boots. The gurneys. It was the only clean …