A friend of mine confessed that, despite her efforts to deny it, she had found herself in the precarious position of being attracted to a coworker. Some people would be shocked by this. I barely looked up from my latte.

I could see that she was nervous bringing up the matter. She spoke in whispers. Shed only been married for five years, and another man was giving her the kind of butterflies that she had promised to put a lid on the moment that she said I do. The need for secrecy struck me as strange that in 2020, having impure thoughts about another man should be considered as dastardly as plotting to steal the Hope Diamond from the Smithsonian.