A couple sits perched on the stone wall by the old Reformed Church, talking intensely, and the dog seems to want to pause and check them out, but I steer her away, as I don't want to intrude.
"I don't see why you have to make this about you," the woman says, her voice flat and uninflected. "I'm trying to get better."
I pass through the edge of the gravity well of their despair, and slingshot away, down the sidewalk and into the night.
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