Somewhere between 96th and 103rd, I burst into uncontrollable tears in the backseat of a taxi. The driver actually pulled over to hand me a tissue and ask if I was okay. All I managed to get out between sobs and hyperventilating was that I lost my best friend.

"As in died?" the taxi driver asked patiently.

I shook my head and realized how idiotic it sounded. Of all the horrible things in the news--of today--and this is what I was shedding my tears over? How could I explain to this taxi driver who could barely understand me and probably thought I was absolutely nuts that I was upset because someone I loved no longer seemed to care about me? How could I sum up, in two sentences or in five words, what it was I felt? It felt so superficial, so trivial, so...juvenile.

He handed me the box of tissues from his front seat and I sunk into my seat as he pulled away from the curb to continue toward my destination. I was realizing how ridiculous my outburst was, but at least it was better than crying on the subway.

We got to my corner, and I paid. Before I got out of the taxi, I handed the box of tissues back through the window in the plastic divider.

"Take it," the driver said. He smiled, nodded, said "good night," and drove off.