“Grier walks through swinging double–doors; their rectangular plates and white panels smudged by hundreds of dirty, desperate hands. Along the decades–old, re-waxed checkerboard floors of sun–bleached white and black, the vulnerable Doctor approaches the receptionist’s desk. ‘The doctor is waiting.’ The distinguished Grier makes his way through the buzzer–kept door to the far–end of the faux–marbled hallway. He turns the doorknob to Room 17. Beyond the stuttering fluorescent bulbs overhead, the Doctor finds “Dr.” Landau seated at a walnut–stained desk, just this side of the cherry–red built–ins—bookshelves filled with volumes as convincing as the toupee positioned upon Landau’s head. Grier walks to the glossy, chocolate–brown sofa positioned in the middle of the room. He lies back. Landau looks upon the weathered face and sleep–deprived eyes of the patient. He knows well the sickness the patient suffers.” Physician, heal thyself!
