it last night.” She put the box on the counter. “Put on real pants, Nathan. I’m borrowing you until midnight.”
For almost ten years, Elise had been the first person I called with good news and the only person I could call with bad news before knowing how to explain it. We met in a required statistics course at the University of Minnesota, when she informed me that my handwriting made probability unnecessarily mysterious. Since then, we had survived graduation, disappointing jobs, serious relationships, and the kind of grief that
