Today, I had a conversation with a stranger who bought my book. Meeting people I’ve never known, yet who choose to read my work, is intoxicating.

He was a man a bit younger than me—not a reader, not a literary snob, just a retired man who had lost his son many years ago in an accident.

It was a busy morning at a local café, and he sat at my table. Our conversation began when he noticed a photo of my son on the homescreen of my laptop.

“Your son, I gather,” he said.

I sensed there was more behind his words than idle curiosity.

“He has a similar smile to my son’s,” he continued when I didn’t respond immediately. I simply closed my laptop and slipped it into my backpack to give him more space at the narrow table. I nodded and took a sip of tea. Something told me not to speak just yet.

He sat quietly for a while with his long black coffee, then said, “I’m sorry if I intruded with my nosy comments. I just remembered what it felt like to have a son.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I replied. “I was working on a blurb for my book launch.” I paused, then asked, “What happened to your son?”

He told me about the accident and how it shattered his life. His wife had died a few years later from cancer.

“I think she just couldn’t handle the loss of our son,” he said. “She lost the will to live. Since then, I’ve been alone, getting older with only memories.”

He looked away, then added:
“I don’t want to die—but I don’t want to live like a ghost either. Every time I see fathers and sons together, I feel a wave of guilt. After losing my son, I realised I’d never really had him. The accident just made it final. I was always too busy, too tired, too afraid to tell him he was important. That I loved him.”

He asked about my son, with whom I have a strong bond. It felt almost cruel to speak of it, but he listened with interest.

Then he asked about my work, and I showed him my books—The Birthmark Murders and Handful. I told him that my mystery novel explores guilt, loss, and the fear of owning our emotions. I explained how Handful is a prequel that reveals why the young Tuomas could help Pekka Wall (the protagonist) in The Birthmark Murders—by transforming pain into a new life.

“I never thought books could do that,” he said, picking up the books from the table and flipping through the pages. “I didn’t know you could read a book not just as a story but as a way to search for meaning. I’ve spent my whole life working—first as a builder, then driving trucks across the country. I brought food to the table but never brought myself to it. I was too tired for that.

“Now that I’ve retired, I try to keep busy, but the thoughts keep coming. Doing things no longer brings relief or joy—just burden. Maybe your books will open something new for me.”

Morning passed, and I had to leave for a meeting. He bought the books, started reading right there, and promised to call me once he’d finished them.

As I walked to my car, I reflected on how deeply fulfilling that small encounter had been. This is just the abridged version—but you get the point.

I remember similar moments from my early days as a theatre director—when audience members would tell me how a performance had shifted their perspective. I felt a true sense of connection then, just as I did today.

After decades of business and busyness, I feel I’ve returned to what really matters: my roots, my reason for being—to help people, through stories, find hope. Hope that even a frustrating or unforgiving life can transform into something fulfilling.

Janus Lucky
www.januslucky.com

Get The Birthmark Murders from below:

👉 Amazon
👉 Apple Books
👉 Books.by – for those who like things a bit more indie

And local Schrödinger’s Books In Petone is selling my book both on-site and by mail across New Zealand.

and of course, Kobo.