The first time I noticed something was wrong with Daniel, he was...

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2026-06-11 04:10:33 -

The first time I noticed something was wrong with Daniel, he was making coffee in his apartment on the Upper East Side and talking to himself in a language I didn't recognize.

It was a Tuesday in March. I was visiting—partly to drop off some books he had lent me, partly because I had nothing better to do, which was becoming a pattern in my own life that I was trying not to name. Daniel answered the door in sweatpants and a t-shirt that said something in Latin, and his hair was wet from the shower, and he was stirring coffee with a fork. "Hey, Soph," he said. "Come...

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