Perhaps it was when I moved out of the penthouse I shared with my best friend and into my own place in the Mission. Or when she married a handsome, good-natured investment adviser while I continued to date impoverished writers. Or when I gave up that nice advertising job to become a full-time writer myself. Actually, I’ll never be able to pinpoint when it was that Gretl and I stepped into different economic realities, but it has happened. She is rich, and I am scraping by.
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