On the road to Glastonbury, I learned that, for all Elliot’s bravado and smooth talk, he was grieving for a woman who, it seemed, no longer cared. I reached for his hand. He accepted mine and, together, we sat in silence for the last 10 minutes of the journey. I was reminded of a schoolyard friend on our first day of school and for the several weeks that followed. Each day we would find each other at lunchtime and hold hands. He became an obnoxious brat not long after and lost interest in me, but I still recalled the comfort we felt in each other as we weathered the storm of our new lives.
The outskirts of Glastonbury were like those of most cities I’d seen. Renovated and neglected homes stood side by side, the former showing the latter what they could be. I had expected to see more young
