iving on freelance gigs and cheap pizza. She was the "tech princess" from Stanford, a

her face tight with pain. She' d sprained her ankle. I didn'

need

p, surprised

the student health center. She was lighter than I expected, and she smelled l

constantly misplacing her things. She' d text me in a panic, "Ethan, have yo

d to, but the real city. We ate dollar slices in hole-in-the-wall pizzeria

'd insist, my prid

ccount. We fell in love in crowded subway cars and late-night diners, a world away from the Silicon Valley empire she was destine