Attorney John Luxton was, for all intents and purposes, the man who had everything. He had an ex-wife, an onerous alimony obligation, an unprofitable law practice, and three ungrateful children. He also had a sex addiction, an addiction to painkillers, and an ineffable death wish.
During the holidays, he rarely left the sparsely furnished townhouse that he shared with whatever woman he happened to be sleeping with at the moment. He walked around the place in an open robe, his slovenly physique visible to all who cared to see. Not that anyone, even his temporary housemates, ever cared to see.
He decided to write a book about the many things that were wrong with the world. The first thing that was wrong with the world was that he had encountered so much hardship. The second thing was—wait, what was the second thing? Tort reform, perhaps? He stared for a few hours at the blinking cursor on his word processing program, then abandoned the project.
Two thousand years ago, several Bedouin chieftains followed a bright star to their destination. Now, that same sky was suffused with a heavy fog; the deepening mystery weighed upon both lost and found; and John Luxton, bless his heart, continued living the dream.