Can we talk about something else? So, Hello. Hello

out there. Life can at times feel long like at 6 a.m. on a Tuesday, hung over, waiting for a bus in the rain to take you to a factory job.

But then there are moments where we realize how fleeting, how temporary our time is here.

Like when a toddler follows the family dog to the river and falls in, all in the space of three minutes while his mom makes him a quick

sandwich. That happened out here in the middle of the Canadian prairies on a

little farm.

They found him days later after a massive search.

Underwater tangled up in a busted beaver dam.

Chase.

I remember watching news footage of the hearse carrying him away from his mom and sisters.

The mother dropped to her knees, one of the little girls sang out.

Bye, Chase.

Ewh, that haunts me.

It haunts everybody around here. That quick, two years old just starting to explore your surroundings

a bit and bam. Underwater cold cold can't breathe panic. back to blackness.

Oh, where am I going with this?

This isn't where I wanted to be at all here.

This isn't a story about drowned toddlers, it's a story about choosing when our time is up.

No, not suicide this time. It's, uh, well, at least not the type of suicide to escape pain.

It's the type that's necessary to pull off a crime that I want to talk about.

Have you ever thought to yourself, if this fucking doctor tells me it's cancer, I'm robbing a dozen banks,

laundering the cash through casino chips, then bearing the money,

...