AS A YOUNG ADULT I HAD AN ACCIDENT. IT WAS A WARM summer morning and I was rushing to help Jason move his art from his old apartment to a new one.
I didn’t want to help Jason. I wanted to have a leisurely Saturday, with a beautiful girl I was seeing – this was when I was dating beautiful girls – someone whom I only recall as brunette. That’s what I wanted to do instead of helping Jason with his move. But occasionally, I would force myself to do unpleasant selfless things in order to maintain the long-term connections that I felt demanded such things; this is what friendships are like.
I rode my bicycle through the sticky streets of Chinatown, through a market with its fish smells and bakery smells, all of it mixed in with garbage and decades of immigrant effort evaporating from the sidew
