Role Models May 2026

“What’s that?”

“That was a wonderful story,” I said. Role Models

I closed my eyes, and I waited for morning. End of text. “What’s that

“You didn’t offend me,” he said. “You just reminded me of something I’d rather forget.” “You didn’t offend me,” he said

I was forty-two years old. I had a wife and two children, a house in the suburbs, a car, a dog, a cat, and a career that was neither a success nor a failure. I had never lost my innocence, because I had never had any to lose. I had been born old, like Gertrude Stein, but without her genius. I had been born careful, cautious, skeptical, and afraid. I had never believed in anything, not really, not deeply. I had never believed that the world was good, or that I was good, or that the people I loved would never hurt me. I had always known that they would. I had always known that everything ends, that everything falls apart, that everything is a story we tell ourselves to keep the dark away.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

There was a silence. Then someone laughed, a nervous, polite laugh, and the tension broke. People began to talk among themselves, and the poet turned away from the fireplace and walked toward the bar. I followed him.