The glow of the teleprompter illuminated a script of carefully curated remarks, but Pence scarcely looked at the screen. After decades in the public eye—from the radio airwaves of Indiana to the Governor’s mansion, and ultimately to the second-highest office in the land—he seemed to have reached a point where the polished language of political strategy was no longer sufficient. This was a confession forged in the crucible of sleepless nights and private prayers, a transition from the “Death Dealer” of political debate to a man seeking the quietude of the “Invisible River” of private life.