After what others would call a fun day out together, we feel as if we have been at the Red Cross, donating blood.

We do not require company. In varying degrees, it bores us, drains us, makes our eyes glaze over. Overcomes us like a steamroller. Of course, the rest of the world doesn't understand.

The loner who looks fabulous is one of the most vulnerable loners of all.

Loners, if you catch them, are well worth the trouble. Not dulled by excess human contact, nor blasé or focused on your crotch while jabbering about themselves, loners are curious, vigilant, full of surprises. They do not cling. Separate wherever they go, awake or asleep, they shimmer with the iridescence of hidden things seldom seen.

We care. We feel. We think. We do not always miss the absent one. We cannot always come when called. Being friends with a loner requires patience and the wisdom that distance does not mean dislike.

After what others would call a fun day out together, we feel as if we have been at the Red Cross, donating blood.

Writing is done alone. People do not talk about the things they do alone.