Curdled Dreams: A Short Story

     "I've never had much use for an acupuncturist," the rich man sneered.  "And you're not a particularly good one."
     Trenton picked up his kit and left the rich man's foyer.  He made a silent vow never to return to this neighboorhood.  
     "Good day," the doorman unenthusiastically told him.  And Trenton fell to his knees and cried in the moonlight.