Photography by Emily Kennedy

Instead of a padded room, they put him in a padded suit. It was a novel idea, and he couldn’t get hurt, or hurt himself, but they didn’t give him a helmet. I was uncomfortable when he sat down next to me at the table. He had recently started to take pills and deteriorate: his speech had slowed, and he had trouble delivering his thoughts. He told me how much he liked the pills, and how they managed his headaches. The weight of his body began to press upon me, and then he fell forward. He hit the ground head first and I was unable to determine whether the sickening crack was his skull or neck. Face to ground, dead weight pushing. I had never seen this man before, but his fall came with painful, emotional gravitas.