I’m not one to drink on a Wednesday, unless it’s December. However, after standing and talking the whole day in front of a massive number of people [OK, 23 people] at a writing workshop, I was wiped. I staggered out of the conference room, supporting myself against the corridor walls, grabbing at the stairway rails, and descended to the ground floor.
A great mass of light from the front door hit me in the face, and I raised my hand to block it, turning away in the process. Unlike Saul from the Bible, I didn’t hear a James Earl Jones voice ask, “Saul, why do you persecute me?” Instead, I saw a brightly lit bar to my right. So, a different kind of light.
