never too late
“THERE’S SOMETHING I want you to listen to,” John said.
“Okay.” I could see that he was unaware of the panic I was feeling as he led me through his house. I didn’t want to hurt John’s feelings, but I didn’t want to lead him on, either. Throughout dinner I’d waited for an opening—the right time to let him down gently. But my chance never came. Now he was giving me a tour of his place. I took a deep breath and rehearsed in my mind what I would say: “John, I’m set in my ways. I’m 74 years old.”
I’d met John and his wife
