pistachio gelato: an elegy for garrett steel
I was eating pistachio gelato when I felt a vibration in my pocket. I was in no great hurry to see what this vibration was alerting me to; after all, it was likely just a notification that Rakuten was giving 2x cash back on Nike purchases, or Robinhood telling me that the Dogecoin I impulse invested in last year has become even more worthless. Compared to the frosty treat I was consuming, such things had little urgency. Still, just in case it might be an emergency, I lazily withdrew my phone. Oh, a text message from my friend Matt! Undoubtedly this would be something amusing, a hilarious surprise just as delightful as my dwindling gelato. As my wife and I pondered aloud where to spend the next portion of our Saturday afternoon, I skimmed the text. Then, suddenly silent, I slowly read it once more. I lowered the phone into my lap, blinking. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I turned to my wife, forgetting to take a breath before I spoke. The words came out nonetheless. "Garrett