From the May 1998 magazine.

You Kept Your Promise!

I work the graveyard shift at the local treatment center. It's a laid-back job with not a lot to do, and there are times when I wish something would happen just to relieve the routine. One night that's just what happened.

A former resident called at two A.M., drunk as a skunk. He'd just been released the week before. He told me he'd always respected me and wished he could have what I had. He kept jumping from subject to subject but finally he said something that chilled me to the bone: "I have a gun. I just can't live like this anymore." I thought about myself having those same...

-- James A.

Eau Claire, Wisconsin