The story’s a long one that led up to this, and I reckon I don’t have time to tell it all. The short version is that it’s been twenty years in the making, twenty long years for a single hour. A mere twenty minute tête-à-tête with each, but a man can live twenty years in twenty minutes. I made sure they felt every year of my hell. Stop! Don’t go in there, please. They’re dead. You don’t need to see—I didn’t want you to walk in on it, you understand? You don’t know the men you were working for.
My Friend
Tale Told 