When we were 19, my best friend and I promised that if we were both single at 60, we’d find each other — I turned 60 last Tuesday, and my old landline rang.

The nearest I can get is this.
May you like

That card was written to me and it was true and it was never sent, and for forty years it sat in a box being nothing.

It was two days late for my birthday when it arrived, which is exactly what Gil Haverty was, every single year, for the whole of his life.

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