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

with the weather. I made pasta, burned the first piece of garlic bread, corrected course, and put on an old vinyl record. We sat on my couch while the rain traced threads down the windows and the room glowed amber under a floor lamp that made everything look gentler than it was.

Her hand found mine in the silence.

Not by accident. Not tentatively. Just continue reading …