Sublime

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I explain that Tom and I don’t want to waste our waning years together enmeshed in a petty war. “You get to be in midlife, and you realize your time is finite,” I say, dispensing my trademark oldest-sibling wisdom with a world-weary air. Patrick gawps

reason he can stay out so late is because he doesn’t have a job. This guy doesn’t take life seriously.

(Although even in her twenties, Charlie wasn’t what you’d call eye candy: her looks had always been sharp edged and intense, more like eye tequila.)

He’s also the one who says, “Hey, you wanna go back to school? Don’t worry about it, I’ll support you.”

Twentysomethings who take the time to explore and also have the nerve to make commitments along the way construct stronger identities.

Gregg’s wife packs him the most elaborate lunches Colette has ever seen, with all the food in undersized portions: tiny sandwiches, miniature quiches, itty-bitty salads in old baby food jars, cupcakes no bigger than a quarter. “Can you imagine living with the woman who packs those lunches?” Vic asked. “His choices are probably to come here or stay