The Camera Behind the Books
It is two paragraphs.
It is in a folder in a drawer in my apartment.
Raymond signed it last and he signed it hard enough to go through the page.
There was one moment in that mediation that I have never told anybody about except my therapist.
At about four in the afternoon, in the eighth hour, the retired judge asked to see me alone — which they do, and which is normal, and which nobody warns you feels like being called to a principal’s office.
He was a man of about seventy named Judge Halvorsen, retired eleven years, doing this three days a week.