the city was going through its October heat spell, and the hills were covered not with the usual thick, cold fog but with a gloaming haze
“Maybe two more years,” I say. “Two more years should be long enough to get me promoted, right?” I’ve been two years from promotion for more than a decade now, but hey. “Four more vesting cycles.” This, at least, is solid. The future may be vapor, but the cash is real.
“Fine with me,” John says.…
It hits me like brand-new news that I could just leave. I could even leave right now. Just drive away and never come back. John wouldn’t care; if anything, he’d be delighted. I’d be a failure, I think. But suddenly the word looks so small. Okay, let’s say you run screaming and become a failure. Do …
