texts: Bill.  Come on.  The question.  The question you've been asking yourself with increased regularity, at odd moments, panting through the extra game of handball, when you ran for the plane in Delhi, when you sat up in bed last night and hit the floor in the office this morning.  The question that is in the back of your throat, choking the blood to your brain, ringing in the ears over and over as you put it to yourself --
labels: The 'question' --