Ben nodded in agreement. Blurred was a good word for it. Ben imagined it like a trip to the optometrist, and looking at the box of text on the wall through one lens too may.
"She died when the two of them were teenagers," he said, lifting an already clammy palm to wipe across his face. "There must have been a shooting. There was a stray bullet. So you can imagine when I bought the gun..."