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On my way back from lunch, I stopped by the park and watched a father and son fly a remote controlled helicopter. It was a touching scene, the little yellow chopper (clearly one of the home-constructed kits, clearly built together by the pair) whirring and bobbing up and down over the lawn. He flew it pretty timidly. Maybe it was the first time they were trying it out! I stood for a while, almost saying “that’s so cool” but since neither of them were facing me, I figured I’d stay quiet and let them have their moment. A few seconds later, the helicopter just flipped upside-down and propelled itself straight into the grass, scattering rotors and dreams across the lawn. I walked briskly away, and had the inexplicable feeling that somehow it was my fault.
On the way back I passed by the kid that makes the sandwiches at another deli I frequent. I didn’t make eye contact, since I was about to eat a sandwich from his nearest competitor.
By my count (which I keep on a paper-chain hung above my bed) this is our 150th letter. At first I was thinking of sending you something super special for this occasion, but come on. We are adults. We are men. Numbers were invented by Hallmark to sell birthday cards. Let’s both just agree that we’re doing a good job of keeping in touch and leave it at that.