Fifty-One Hours
You will look at somebody you love in a bed and you will think: she cannot take this right now.
You will be wrong, and the reason you will be wrong is not that she is stronger than you think.
It is that you are not deciding whether she finds out.
You are only deciding when, and from whom, and whether she has to find it out alone.
There is no version where she does not find out.
There is only a version where she finds out from a card in a box in a garage eleven months later, with a glass of wine, on a concrete floor.
I have given that talk about eighteen times now.