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— Guess you thought you’d never hear from me again, and I guess I don’t expect you to answer cuz I know I wasn’t that understanding the last time we were together, but, dammitall, I miss you. Can’t believe I’m sending this — Gabby thought I was looped at first — but I was hoping you’d like to get together and talk a bit. Maybe play some Scrabble or… Anyway, lemme know.

L.

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Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle — Plato

Don looked up. Gunter had a perfect sense of balance and could easily carry Sarah, seated in one of the wooden kitchen chairs that had now been conscripted for that purpose, up and down the staircase; they were descending now. " ’Morning, dear,"

Sarah said, the usual quaver in her voice.

"Hi," he said.

Gunter put the chair down, and helped Sarah to her feet. "Any interesting email?" she asked.

Don quickly turned off the datacom. "No," he said. "None at all."

Don and Lenore’s first day back together had gone well, right up until the evening.

They were just finishing a meal of take-out Chinese food in her basement apartment on Euclid, after an afternoon of walking around downtown, looking in shops.

"Anyway," Lenore said, continuing an account of what she’d been up to since Don had last seen her, "the university ripped me off. They say I didn’t pay my tuition on time, but I did. I made the electronic transfer just before midnight on the due date.

But they charged me a day’s worth of interest."

Don never ate fortune cookies, but he still liked cracking them open. His said, "Prospects for change are favorable." "How much?" Don said, referring to the interest.

"Eight dollars," she replied. "I’m going to go by the registrar’s office tomorrow and complain."

Don motioned for her to show him her fortune. It said, "An endeavor will be successful." He nodded, acknowledging that he’d read it. "You could do that," he said, going back to their conversation, "but you’ll end up spending half your day dealing with it."

She sounded frustrated with him. "But they shouldn’t be able to do that."

"It’s not worth it over eight bucks," said Don. He got up from his chair and started clearing the table. "You’ve got to learn to pick your battles. Take it from me. I know. When I was your age, I—"

"Don’t say that."

He turned and looked at her. "What?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Don’t say shit like, ‘When I was your age.’ I don’t need to hear that."

"I’m just trying to save you from going through—"

"From going through what? Going through life? Spare me from having my own experiences, from learning for myself? I want to learn for myself."

"Yes, but—"

"But what? I don’t want a father, Don. I want a boyfriend. I want a peer, an equal."

He felt his heart sink. "I can’t just erase my past."

"No, of course not," she said, noisily wadding up the paper bag the take-out had come in. "They don’t make erasers that big."

"Come on, Sarah, I—"

Don froze, realizing his mistake at once. He felt himself turning red. Lenore nodded, as if a vast conspiracy had been confirmed. "You just called me Sarah."

"Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t—"

"She’s always there, isn’t she? Hanging between us. And she always will be. Even when she’s—"

Lenore stopped herself, perhaps realizing that she was about to go too far. But Don picked up on the thought. "Yes, she will be, even after… even after she’s gone.

That’s a reality we’ll have to face." He paused. "Anyway, I can’t help the fact that I’ve been alive longer than—"

"Than ninety-nine percent of all the people in the world," said Lenore, which stopped him cold for a moment while he thought about whether that was true. He felt his stomach clench as he realized it must be.

"But you can’t ask me to deny that reality, or what I’ve learned," he said. "You can’t ask me to forget my past."

"I’m not asking that. I’m just asking that you—"

"What? Keep it to myself?"

"No, no. But just don’t, you know, always bring it up. It’s hard for me. I mean, God, what was the world like when you were born? No home computers, no nanotech, no robots, no television, no—"

"We had television," Don said. Just not in color.

"Fine. Fine. But, God, you lived through — through the Iraq War. There was a Soviet Union when you were alive. You saw people walk on the moon. You saw Apartheid end, in South Africa and in the US. You lived through the Month of Terror. You were alive when the first extraterrestrial signal was detected." She shook her head.

"Your life is my history book."