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

life in the room through her voice, and what struck me most was not my own discomfort at hearing one woman read another man’s love letters. It was the tenderness of being trusted with it. She was not inviting me into competition with her past. She was inviting me to witness the full shape of her heart.

“I was afraid that sharing these would somehow continue reading …