I’m making plans to come to NYC the Saturday after Labor Day. I’ll drive my car to Newark, take the train onto Manhattan, grab an oat milk latte at Hutch and Waldo, lunch at Stube, pick up some beers at City Swiggers, then wait at the park or the library. I’m not sure yet when I’ll tell you— probably on my drive up— but I hope that you’ll choose to come find me at some point. Just to talk. I don’t expect you will. I’m even pretty sure you won’t respond at all, but I hope.