Julius Harris was exhausted as he sat in his car at eight in the morning. He hadn't gotten a full night's rest, and he felt awful. He reached forward, pulled the visor down to take a look at himself in the mirror, to see if he looked as bad as he felt.
What he saw was an unshaven, sixty-year-old man, who looked more like a one-hundred-year-old man. His hair was short and uncombed, dark circles hung under his tired, bloodshot eyes, and as he dropped his face in his hands, rubbing the graying stubble on it, he asked himself, Was he losing weight? Was he shedding pounds without even trying? He sank a thumb into the waist of...