“Of course not,” I said. “You brought me here. That’s all that matters. This is awesome.”

Jonah and I were directed by another usher into a small door, which opened up right into the concert hall. We were up high, maybe 50 feet, and in our small box area there were only 10 or 15 seats. Our seats were right on the edge of the balcony, flush against the railing.

Jonah opened the thick, plush chair for me, and I looked down at the massive crowd and at all of the performers. It was the classiest place I had ever been. I looked out at the sea of gray hair, and I felt 50 years too young to be here. But thrilled all the same.

Jonah sat, and our elbows touched, and I felt a thrill at the warmth of his body beside me. As we settled in and sat there, waiting, I wanted to reach over and take his hand, and hold it in mine. But I didn’t want to risk being too bold. So I sat there, hoping that he would reach over and take mine. He didn’t make any move. It was early. And maybe he was shy.

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