“It might just seem like a pointless detail to you, but it’s a symbol, is what it is.” He leaned in close to me, so I could smell the garlic and cigarettes on his breath. “A symbol of who I am. A cog in the machine. But not just any cog, oh no. A rusty cog, with a chipped tooth. It was once destined for greatness, but now it just grinds away. Dreaming of its lost aspirations. Waiting until it’s replaced by a newer part. Titanium, not steel. Steel was part of the past. Steel has lost its relevance.” He sat back, sighed, and found himself staring at where the two walls met the ceiling. I watched him in silence, thinking he was done. And then, in a long, defeated exhalation, he spoke: “It’s never a small detail to a small cog.”