Cradle to Grave
''
10, years
When I finish the trek to the cantina, I am faint with exhaustion.
(My body was trained and used for super-human physical activity for almost four decades. There were times when I had been on several locations light-years apart in the space of one standard day.)
It is a squalid, dingy watering hole, walls and furniture as dull as dishwasher. Its lights and colours almost blind me.
(I have been to places too exotic for words.)
No parleying with the barkeeper for a second drink tonight. It requires more charisma than I own.
(Years ago, they called me the Negotiator.)
''