early years, our relationship was the definition of suburban politeness. We were two ships passing in the driveway, exchanging brief waves and the occasional comment about the humidity or the state of the lawn. He was a man of few words, and I was a man preoccupied with the hustle of my own existence.
Everything changed on a particularly humid Sunday afternoon. I watched from my window as Ezra struggled to navigate his porch steps, his thin arms trembling under the weight of several overstuffed grocery bags. When one of
