(…or want to…)
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Early morning, in the elevator lobby of a local business park, I noticed the wall panel torn loose below the chair rail and the Wet Floor warning cone, and thought “leak.”

Oh, no. No, no.

“Well, see, an escaped mental patient from the hospital tried to hide in that wall from the police.”

I’m pretty sure that those words, in the long history of talking, have never been strung together in that exact order. And I was there to see it.

The bad part is that it was barely...