The lone gunman with the bewildering arsenal, the stories of heroism and tragic death, the queues outside blood banks, the ubiquitous thoughts and prayers, the rising gun stocks and surging gun sales, the visit by the President, a memorial.
Repeat. It's all such a sorry routine.
Las Vegas took me back to my own memories of Oregon, Orlando, and the numerous shootings I covered while reporting in the United States.
It was 18 months ago, standing in the heat outside the taped-off Pulse nightclub, that I decided I might be ready to move home for a bit.
Sandy Hook was the worst. That was the moment; the horror that I was sure would bring about change.