I’ve a feeling a whole lot of you aren't going to like me much after I reveal a certain something about myself. In fact, some of you may end up saying: “If he cared about us even a little, he would have just kept it to himself.”

Right.

Do I care?

No, I’ve never been an actual assassin. Never took that controlled breath—then released, knowing that my steady aim was correlative with someone’s last breath.

It’s worse than that.

I walk fast.

Chances are, I walk faster, much faster than you.

Chances are, if you were walking ahead of me on a sidewalk , you’d sense me catching up from behind and passing you up. And I would likely, given the rule of street non-etiquette in a burgeoning metropolis, not even acknowledge you.

Truth is, I probably walk faster than most people can jog. If they did. Which they don’t.

Okay. There it is. Ready-set?

Go.