“I did what was necessary, David,” I replied. “You wanted a life far removed from where you came from, and I let you have it. But you cannot treat people like they are disposable.” The silence on the other end told me that he understood, perhaps too late, the gravity of his choices.

Linda, in her arrogance, had once told me that nothing was more important than appearances. But appearances are fleeting, and as the last of their belongings were packed up and moved out of the penthouse, she learned that hard truth. They relocated to a modest apartment, their pride a casualty of their misplaced priorities.