About a year later, as I wrote this, not enough time had passed for the coals of my anger to die down. I felt it as I wrote. I felt it as I prepared another academic paper for my peers to review. I felt it when I went past the local’s building in Metropolis on my way to some other locale. I analyzed it, I told the story, and I tried to understand. These things helped. For that is my custom, to try to understand those things that hurt.