coffee…grit…encrusted blue plastic Evergreen mug for the third time that day。 He wouldn？t mind
being dead right about now。 They？d been cleaning out the Humphreys？ ramshackle； grime…coated
Upper West Side apartment for a grueling two hours； but it felt more like two days。 Dan just
wasn？t cut out for hard labor； and he could feel the heart palpitations ing on。 At least if he died
now； he？d die young； like his idol； the poet John Keats； which he always thought was sort of
romantic。
They could bury him beneath the Strand； a copy of Baudelaire？sFleurs du Mal over his ashen
face。 Maybe Vanessa would weep dramatically as she said her final goodbyes。 Or wait； maybe
Greg would。 This was one of the many problems with recently discovering you might be gay？it
was totally unclear whether your future widower would be your longtime ex…girlfriend or your
newish…maybe…boyfriend。
After he and Dan had shared a semi…conscious drunken kiss at their literary salon earlier in the
summer； Greg seemed to have decided two things： that Dan was gay； and that they were a couple。
Dan wasn？t sure how he felt about either of those conclusions； but he hadn？t had very long to
think about it； because Greg？s grandmother had passed away a few days later； and Greg had left
for Phoenix for the funeral and to spend time with his extended family。 He？d been gone nearly a
month； and in that time Greg had sent Dan dozens of beautifully crafted e…mails； all with the same
theme： absence makes the heart grow fonder。 But every time Dan wrote back； he wasn？t sure if he
was growing any fonder of Greg 。 。 。 or just more confused。
Dan tried to shake his uncertainty away。 ？I？m going to k