In the dead of night, the Heretic is busy working behind his desk, his wife and kids fast asleep, and his senses numb all but to one thought. Well, a question really, an oft recurring question these days: am I sealing my fate, or is my fate sealing me? Or, to wax even more philosophic:
How can one feel trapped by choices he seems to be making of his own volition?
The dead of night brings no answer to the Heretic, and, obviously, no sleep.
