Hard To Care

When Mitch started having symptoms, I wanted to care. But I didn’t.  We’d been friends since we were teenagers. We were on opposite coasts for college, but landed in the same engineering graduate program and then took our Masters degrees into the same surprisingly high-paying starter jobs at the same prestigious and growing tech firm. He moved up the ranks faster than I did through a combination of ability and ambition, bolstered by shameless glad-handing and, as I learned later, …

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