The One Thing We Couldn’t Talk About
The New York Times
When the bad news finally arrived, neither one of us — dear friends for 60 years — knew what to say.
It was late at night when the phone rang. I lived alone with my dog and didn’t expect anyone to be calling. I rightly assumed that only bad news arrived at this hour. I had recently experienced a series of plagues. Flies. Rats. Bats. Divorce. And now Covid.
“It happened,” my oldest friend said when I picked up.
We had known each other for so long we could speak in shorthand.
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