[1]I suppose it had been building since Christmas, when three friends, in succession, fell in love. While they were on romantic getaways with “the one,” I was on the sofa with my pets. It took some heavy lifting, but I made peace with it. That is, until yesterday. I took Rose for a walk and out of nowhere roared the age-old question that leads nowhere good: “When will someone come and save ME?” I was steeped in envy, as we turned the corner onto Olympic Boulevard, the rush hour traffic zooming by. With a sharp pull on the leash, Rose came to the rescue, jerking me out of my reverie of pity, as she bolted into the bushes after a cat. In an odd (and sad) coincidence last night, I got word that one of my friends and his lover just called it quits.
Image: Kentucky, 1977, by Lee Friedlander [1]