"There's a bar in Greenwich," he softly said. "A bar for people like me. Or, I thought they were people like me. I thought I was like them. 'Turns out, they wouldn't let me in, either. I tried, this summer. A few days before I met you. I didn't even want booze; I just wanted to go inside. I wanted to be with people like me. They turned me away." One hand tightened around his cane. The other reached out to scratch his guide dog's ear. "They didn't...