by Gerald Michael

Created on: November 29, 2008

"You still haven't told me why you're doing this Mr. Dean," tossing a manila folder on his desk in front of Charlie. The office was dark and had that musty smell from recycled air and windows that never opened. Charlie flared his nostrils. He hated that smell. "I have my reasons," flatly.

"Well, okay. All the information's in there," pointing to the envelope.

"And my photograph? It's a special one. You know," apologetically.

"It's in there- with the others."

"Thanks. Really. I know it wasn't easy."

"It's all part of the job."

The man lit a cigarette and exhaled in Charlie's direction.

"You should quit."

"I should quit a lot of things. I drink too much too. It's the only way I can sleep at night."

"I can understand that." Charlie rose from his seat, extended his hand. "Thanks again, Bernie. I'll be in touch."

"You do that, Mr. Dean. I hope it all turns out for the best," shaking Charlie's hand.

"Call me Charlie."

"Sorry. Old habit. Keep in touch, Charlie."

"Will do."

Charlie walked out with no idea of what to do next, having all the information he needed. It took nearly six months of searching to get what he had in his hand. He wasn't prepared to deal with it like he first expected. What should I say, he thought. What do I do? This was the climax to a long journey and he didn't know if he was ready for it. What if they reject me? He didn't know what came next but he did know he had to try. He had to try and make things right again. He was at fault. He was the one who cheated and lied. He was the one who made life hell for two people whose only crime was love for a man who didn't love him self. Charlie allowed his thoughts to punish him for past crimes. Not one day had gone by without it. Self-loathing was his partner, running the plays over and over in his head.

He began to shake. Cigarettes weren't the only things he gave up. Sweet alcohol had never sounded sweeter. He wanted a drink but knew he could never taste it again. That was the one thing that fueled so much darkness. In Charlie's mind, alcohol was the cause and solution to all of life's problems. He vowed to never touch it again and made plans to amend the past. He had purpose in his life now.

Charlie walked back to his car, sat inside and stared at the envelope sitting on the passenger seat, almost afraid to open it. He began to wonder if had made the right decision. Wouldn't they be better off just left alone? He felt the duality of his situation. Maybe he should walk away before any more damage is

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