The thing with the clothes wasn’t on any website, medical or otherwise. Until he knew about the clothes, that was. WebMD suggested that was the most likely.” Cholesterol a little high, but still in the normal range. Bloodwork, urine, prostate, the whole nine yards. “Oh, I went,” Scott said, “and got a checkup. Not close friends, maybe, but friends, sure enough. Which was where he and Scott had met, and become friends. “One you don’t want to talk to your regular doctor about?” Ellis was seventy-four, with thinning silver hair and a small limp that didn’t slow him down much on the tennis court. Scott was a big man, six-feet-four in his stocking feet, with a bit of a belly growing in front. Scott Carey knocked on the door of the Ellis condo unit, and Bob Ellis (everyone in Highland Acres still called him Doctor Bob, although he was five years retired) let him in.
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