When you've been involved in something like this, no matter how long ago it happened, no matter how long it's been absent from the news, you're fated nonetheless, to always search it out. To be on alert for it, somehow, every day of your life. For the small item at the back of the newspaper. For the stranger at the cocktail party or the unfamilliar letter in the mailbox. For the reckoning pause on the other end of the phone line. For the dreadful appearence of something that in all likelihood, is never going to return.
