H-- and I agreed to meet at six, which gave me just enough time to go home and shower. I didn’t dare shave in case I cut myself, but I scrubbed the hell out of my feet. Even though the weather is getting colder, my feet are sweating more. I wonder if this is the male version of menopause.

     I’d look it up, but I’m afraid of what I’ll learn. The last time I went digging for information, I read that ears don’t stop growing until you die. Who, then, would want to live forever?

     We met at a taqueria. It was a place E-- reviewed once for The Weekend Nibble, but I didn’t mention that to H--. Not that she would’ve cared. She really only seemed interested in the tequila. Maybe that’s a red flag,...

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