steelman

Maybe, in a world that seems to be drowning in photos,  Steelman is mounting some quiet resistance to so much easy vision.

Smith screwed his face and squeezed a pimple on his throat; Steelman absently counted the flies on the wall.

Presently Steelman, with a yawning sigh, lay back on the pillow with his hands clasped under his head.

While Smith was gone, Steelman paced the room with a strange, worried, haunted expression.