I don’t know,” I said. “What else did you do for your first eighteen years?””Like I said,” he said as I unlocked the car, “I’m not so sure that you should go by my example.””Why...

As I rolled over, stretching out, my only thought was to go back to the dream I’d been having, which I couldn’t remember, other than that it had been good, in that distant, hopeful way...

Why should I even bother? What’s the point, really?”He thought for a moment. “Who says there has to be a point?” he asked. “Or a reason. Maybe it’s just something you have to do.