A journalist is given ten minutes with him and a folder full of his numbers. She has come to find the one that does not hold.
She takes people apart for a living. Fourteen years of it, and she has never met a record that survived the folder.
So she reads his back to him, line by line: third in the world, sixty-two days on foot across three states, five thousand of this and five thousand of that, two companies, six books, twenty-one songs. She checked every number before she came. She wanted one of them to be wrong.
The sunglasses stay on.