I look in the mirror, and I’m startled. My body is gaunt. I’m developing one of those old-man bodies you see on the beach. Bones everywhere. You could hang clothes from my collarbones. I am so close to my skeleton now. I am seventy-seven. 77, to be abundantly clear. Old by official standards. Old enough to have a senior citizen rapid transit card and AARP membership to prove it. What fear and loathing I have of that word—
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