“Don’t forget that Janus is double faced,” I shouted after him.
He stopped, closed the door, and turned back to face me.
“What?” he asked.
“The god of beginnings, the god of endings, the Romans called him Janus. God of doors, too. He’s double faced. In more modern culture, we’ve taken the image and applied it to spies and people who have a hidden nature. Janus is doubled faced. You’re ending things here, beginning things anew elsewhere, and in all this, you’ve revealed your hidden face.”
“I know who I am,” he said. “That’s what counts.”
“And now, we all know it too.”
He turned back around, put his hand on the knob, and said, “Don’t bother to write.” He opened the door and faced his knew life. The light of noon streamed in, and all I could see of him was a dark silhouette. “Truth,” he called from the threshold, “is double edged.” Then the door shut, and the light was gone.
Tale Told 