USA. I broke a kettle, so I went to the store to confess. In my land, a man who breaks what he has bought carries the loss in silence, as he should. But this store had a sign above the desk: "EASY RETURNS — NO QUESTIONS ASKED." A trial, then. I would present my crime and accept judgment. I prepared a full testimony. The hour of the breaking. The angle of the fall. A small diagram. I practiced my bow in the parking lot. "Hi! Returning this?" "I am. But first you must know the truth. The kettle did not fail. I failed the kettle. I dropped it. These hands—" "No worries. Got the receipt?" No worries. I had just confessed to the destruction of property, and she answered with the words an innkeeper uses when you are slightly late to breakfast. "You do not understand," I said. "I came to be questioned." "...it says no questions asked, sir." "Then I will ask them myself." I turned to face myself. "Did you drop the kettle?" "I did." "Was the floor wet?" "It was not. There is no excuse." The line behind me was very patient. One man nodded along to my questions, as though they were also his. She processed the refund while I was still cross-examining myself. I accepted the money the way a man accepts a verdict he has not earned. She trusted my word over her own coin and asked me NOTHING. What kind of country prints mercy on a sign and hangs it over a desk? I came prepared for judgment. They gave me store credit. A man does not ask the desk for punishment. He punishes himself, while the line nods along. I have bought a new kettle. I carry it with two hands at all times. Not because they would punish me if I broke it. Because they would not.