Dear (_____)

Dear chance,

I never know who exactly it is I am going to meet or where, for that matter.  At least, with the drug trade, it is a calculated risk.  Alone often?  Yes.  The benevolence of strangers.  I like to believe they are taking a risk too.  Each one is a gate to a new network.  An interface.  Thrilling and horrifying in its own span of minutes.  No safety nets.  Out of network.  Fringe.  Where the rubber meets the road, so to speak...  or flesh.  Every time you walk out that door you may not come back.  I hate thinking about it.  So many dice rolls.  I never thought I'd reach, or understand, a place where high risk, high risk beyond my control, was the way forward.  Trying to figure out what's inside the black boxes I meet is tiresome.  I worry for the day I read one wrong.  I have no idea how that game ends.  I don't traffic in violence anymore.  I wonder if I had to, if I absolutely had to, would I have enough time to realize I had to and turn the switch inside me, hidden inside a safe inside a safe inside a safe, before the game ended.

Sincerely,

a glass combination lock wired to a dead circuit switch hooked up to fifteen piezoelectric crystals encased in a three inch thick asphalt sealed... beside the infrared lens array connected to... feeding into a phosphorous anti-warship grade mine.

P.S. safety first.