The call I made that Thursday night lasted eleven minutes and cost me nothing but time.
I had pulled up Sinclair Group’s most recent quarterly filings before I even dialled, reading through the numbers with the specific attention of someone who had spent five years learning exactly what figures were trying to hide when they were arranged a certain way. By the time the line connected I already had four questions prepared. By the time it ended I had answers to all four and a fifth question I had not thought to ask until the third answer made it necessary.
I closed the laptop at half past eleven.
I did not sleep well. Not from distress. Not from anger. From the particular restlessness of a mind that has been given something genuinely interesting to think about and refuses to set it down.
