“So what are you, like boyfriends?” Gunther’s sick. For all the school district knows. They got him a sub, anyhow, and he raises the subject of Esau when we’re on the chair lift at Loveland.
“We’re not anything,” I assure him. “We hang out sometimes.” It’s sunny enough to ski in jeans and a hoodie, but early enough in the day that last night’s snow hasn’t melted to slop. Tomorrow these runs will be like hillside ice rinks, but for now, it’s like skiing on clouds.
Gunther promises me he had already begun the search for a “better best friend”—one whose work schedule would permit gallivanting off to the slopes in the middle of the week, for example—when, four years ago, Google of all shoppers took an interest in the app I developed, mostly by accident, for the regional grocery chain I’d wor
