We found him, Dr. Eigenbach, in a phone booth tracing a maze on glass, taking moths by the wings, running them through.
He had maps. One through four are floorplans -- senseless instructions: "take a cough, upstairs the basement, handsfirst out window, floating, fever spoonfuls the yard, say goodbye." Manuscripts illuminated to wash out the order of rooms.
I've heard, Dr. Eigenbach, when the mind dreams it first inscribes the more important things on its maps. Ask the moths if he's mad. The fifth is your hospital. It is exact. He knew exactly when to leave and exactly where to go.