In the morning, I want to call Elizabeth. I want to walk over to her house and kiss her again, to see if last night was a fluke or if I really am feeling this alive. I wake up, peel off my night splint, cursing the ligaments in my old foot, and decide there’s no reason to sit alone in my house when she’s right there, across the street, likely drinking coffee while her son plays more video games.

I brew an extra cup and head across the street carrying two steaming ...