"I'm a fixer," he says.
Michael, he can sweep together two hundred people, all with good reputations. Every one of them would say: "Yeah, that Michael he's a fixer, one of our best. That Michael what a guy."
Low, low, in the liquid-pit of his brain, a sound: a ringing of a bell. There's clanging, clanging, clanging. A bell's clanging underwater. The sound is this: C'mon, fixer! C'mon fixer, time to fix your life. He speaks the words from low, low in his throat.
Michael says three more: "I'm a fixer."
For the first time, this sounds good to him.