You’re more welcome than you think.

There’s a very specific feeling a man gets when he walks toward a new group for the first time.

It’s strangely familiar.

Am I late.

Where do I stand.

Who do I talk to.

You suddenly become aware of things you haven’t thought about in years.

Your hair (if you’ve got any).

What you’re wearing.

Whether you look like you’ve tried too hard or not at all.

It’s ridiculous.

And yet there it is.

Because your brain thinks this is high school.

It isn’t.

It’s a playground.

The Greyground

Spend ten minutes watching a group of older adults together.

Someone arrives. Someone waves. A conversation starts, drifts, stops completely, then restarts somewhere else. Nobody notices. Nobody cares.