So, this is what you thought life would be like, Nick? Easy, pat, understandable? You thought you were different than the other six billion people on this planet just because you were you? What were you thinking? Look around: all those people you see every day do exactly the same thing you do. They all succeed. They all fail. They all think they're caught up in things too extraordinary to detail. Everyone, Nick, thinks they have a life like no other life. Pity, isn't it, to find yourself succumbing to the same old plot lines?
And don't you find it odd, you, a newspaperman, to be caught up in one of those sordid webs about which you so like to read and about which you wish you could write? But, obviously, you're just like everyone else. The same hopes and dreams, strengths and weaknesses. Too bad.
And what of that paper given to Sarah? A phone number? Perhaps. Maybe an address? Has she already met him for dinner, drinks and, well… Nick, you trust her, don't you? You want to marry her. Almost. Usually. Sometimes. Well, what do you want? Sophia ?
You almost made it through this one, almost managed to forget what had gone before, to disentangle yourself, to pretend things were different. But webs are sticky, and this one clings to the bottom of your soul.