The mind is a dangerous place when it’s left unattended. It’s where loyalty and longing brush shoulders, where restraint loosens its tie, and where impossible things briefly feel within reach. I visit that place more often than I should, especially when I’m around people I must never want yet can’t seem to stop seeing. My wife has few friends. Two, really. And it’s an irony I don’t miss: the smaller her circle, the louder...