You’re sitting at a café when a stranger approaches you. This person asks what your name is, and, for some reason, you reply. The stranger nods, “I’ve been looking for you.” What happens next?
“You’ve been looking for me? Why? Who are you?”
“I’m an attorney for Smith, Jones, and Bubba. I have a message for you, and it has to be personally delivered.”
“Well, okay, but how did you find me? What’s the message? Did my rich uncle die and leave me all his money?”
“You weren’t that hard to find. Your address was in the phone book, and your landlady told me where you like to go for your morning coffee. I don’t know what’s in the message. Here–it’s this letter. I’m supposed to wait until you read it and sign it to affirm that you received it.”
I took the letter, not recognizing the handwriting that was my name, scrawled across the front. No return address, nothing to identify where it came from. Wondering, I tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Unfolding it, I realized it was a very short note.
As I read, my heart began to pick up its pace. I could feel the blood draining from my head to pool somewhere near my feet. My stomach rolled, threatening to expel my coffe and croissant in a most unpleasant manner.
My life was about to take a dramatic U-turn, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.