I studied your pictures for hours. Hours over weeks, because it took that long to arrange a date. Not because of you, because of me—in the aftermath of my breakup, I spent long days on worthless magazine pitches: tired ones about California cuisine, unhinged ones about the erotics of wildfire. Work was the only way to forget Elena. But I was forcing myself to date, at least once, at least to try. I’d clear the air, open myself to possibility. In your only picture not taken from suspiciously … [Read more...] about Sorry About the Wolf