Edit: From January
Today was was a gorgeous winter day where unexpected help was found, where generosity was touching, and where I realized that strangers’ faces at a bar on Christopher Street were now those of friends and storytellers whose esteem I am honored to have.
This story didn’t stop being true because things ended. That’s not how these things work. I never played this for him. I told him, “Maybe someday.” I was ready to tell him but I didn’t think he was ready to acknowledge the words.