Jack’s eyes go misty, looking at the photos. Thinking back to his twentieth anniversary. Sarah had planned an elaborate dinner for them, had a chef come in and grill Japanese Wagyu ribeye and candied brussels sprouts, and special-ordered an exquisite bottle of Château Latour. Jack not only forgot their anniversary but was late getting home. Her look of sadness hurt him more than any rage-filled diatribe she could ever have launched. Smiling, he says, “They’re beautiful. I am sure you don’t need me to tell you this, but you are a very lucky man, Matías.” Jack pauses, then adds, “I was married for over forty years.”

Holding the pictures, seeing the smiling faces, moments in time captured, memories shared, to be remembered, Jack thinks of his stolen wallet. He didn’t even carry a picture of his wife. His kids. Only credit cards, cash, and ID. How fucking sad. Jack had taken so much for granted. Underappreciated every moment, action, or endeavor that related to his wife and kids.

Jack hands the pictures back. Matías takes them, clips them back up to his visor. The only thing Jack had on his visor back home was a garage door opener.

Matías tells him, “Thank you, Jack. I am very proud. You know, you’re lucky I come along. The heat out here gets unbearable in the day. And at night, whew, it gets cold. Where did you hike from? San Pedro?”

Flashes of dancing in the street. People gathering to watch. Music playing in his brain. Jack tells Matías, “Yes. I had this horrible meltdown after I got robbed. I just started walking, and I spent my last pesos on some food. And this song my wife and I had danced to on the anniversaries that I didn’t forget, ‘Unchained Melody’—it’s the only time I ever really made for my wife, Sarah. But I started dancing, and everything was flashing before me, and this very generous woman offered to take me in. She gave me a bed to get some sleep. She was very kind to me.”

“Welcome to Chile, my friend. The people here are the kindest, most generous you shall ever meet. And this area—wow, it is so breathtaking: the mountains, the skies. But the heat can zap you if you’re not accustomed to it.”

Matías is right. Jack was ill prepared for this. Forget the climate-controlled conference room. Out here, it’s man and the elements. Yet again it makes Jack realize how soft he is. And he tells Matías, “The heat here will fry you up like bacon on a tin roof. It’s like nothing I ever saw.”