“In the town where I was born, an old brick hotel loomed over the downtown. A very long time ago it was a stagecoach stop, with a restaurant and rooms to let, but over the years someone whitewashed it and let it get ugly. Years after I moved away, a new owner sandblasted back to the old brick and made it look lovely again.
“I’m telling you all this to let you know years have passed and much has changed since I left the town where I was born. And actually this is the town where we moved when I was 10; the town where I was born was somewhere else.
“This narrative may be going nowhere, but I have a story to tell that you may or may not want to hear.”
The odd old man paused there and closed his eyes. Was he collecting his thoughts or taking a cat nap? The answer would have to wait, because suddenly the session ended, just like that.