I am a very lucky man.

One of the great things about my job is that almost everyone I meet knows how to do it. Do it perfectly. Or, at least, do it better than me.

One of the great things about my stories is that everyone knows how to tell them. People come looking for the truth. Sometimes, not very often, I tell them that there is no truth. There are only facts. People arrange them how they will. They discard the ones that don’t fit the story they want to tell. I am no different. Everything becomes fiction in the end.

People come looking for justice. There is no justice. All I can hope to offer is peace of mind. What the Americans call closure. An acceptance of the random nature of things. That shit happens.

All you can do is move on.

If that is not enough. I am not your man. This is not a story for you. It is not about right and wrong. It is about who gets to choose. Choose what you get. And the price that you pay.

I understand my lot. I have no complaints. On a dark night, when I cannot sleep, I stand looking at the light. I know that I don’t want to see into the shadows.