T-- stopped by tonight with two pints of Ben and Jerry’s.

     “Oh, no,” I said. “Did you and A-- break up?”

     “Worse,” he told me. “She’s on a diet.”

     “Which means you’re on a diet?”

     “Exactly.”

     “Come in,” I told him. “The game’s on in the living room.”

     I went to the kitchen for spoons and beer. Nothing goes better with ice cream than light beer except maybe for whiskey, but not on a work night. When I entered the living room, T-- was scooping and eating his ice cream like a two-fingered excavator. “Good gracious,” I said, “when was the las...

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