“Look,” I said, staring at the dealer’s car-shaped name tag, “Doug. I’ll make this easy. I want you to sell me the biggest lemon on the lot.”

These people, these friends of ours, they are staring at me as if I’m a pharmacist. My drug of choice is music and for each of them I have a song, for every mood, for every moment, there is a song.

It’s just another burner. You need a vacation, old girl, relax and refresh. Read a book. Put in your time off. Hop a train up north.

She doesn’t expect him to jump up or anything, rush to her side, for God's sake; she knows that those days are over.