I thought it was odd when my front door was unlocked.

I shouted into the empty house, “Hello? Is anybody there?”

I put my briefcase down in the hallway and made my way to the living room and stopped. A circle of my friends and people I didn’t know, greeting me with their ashamed looks, their faces solemn but honest.

“What is this, guys?” I asked the group.

“This is an intervention,” the head of the group said, my right hand man.

I sat down in the chair left open for me.
“What’s this all about?” I asked, scanning everyone’s faces, looking for some sort of embarrassment that they’d doubt me. *Me! For Christ sake!*

“We feel that you have gone off the rails and, as you friends, we love you. We just want to understand and help you through it.”

I sighed and slid down in my chair.

A slightly anaemic man piped up, “Why did you let Mrs Morrison’s baby die?”

His wife followed quickly, “Why did you let my cousin die? He was only six.”

An old man stated, “Milfred was all I had left, why did you let her succumb to Alzheimer’s?”

Peter asked, “You’ve basically sentenced me to death, you realise that?”

James stated, “You didn’t let me burn them!”

“Stop! Everyone! Stop!” I announced, “That was my will; you cannot change that. I work in mysterious ways, do not question it!”

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