WHEN MY 59-YEAR-OLD NEIGHBOR KNOCKED AT MIDNIGHT, I THOUGHT I WAS FIXING A PIPE, BUT I WAS REALLY SAVING MY OWN LIFE…

a floating patch of calm.

“Will you tell me about Robert?” I asked after a while.

She held the coffee cup with both hands and nodded.

“He used to come into Daisy’s Diner every Thursday,” she said. “Back when it still stood on Main. Black coffee, two croissants, and a face so serious I thought he hated me.”

“What changed?”

“He left a note on a napkin. It continue reading …