Seeking the deep depths of pain and misery in another person’s life is sick and wrong. And yet, that seems to be my job now. “Did you stick a knife in ‘em?” As in, did you put your niceties aside in order to get to the real dirt?

I’ve spent the last month sniffing the distant scents of stories. I’ve found myself talking to everyone, assuming that my stories will come from the least expected places. At the gas station counter I may as well be asking for a pack of gum and the attendant’s life story. Are you my story? How about you?