I love the man who wrote The Orphaned Adult because he wrote The Orphaned Adult, a blunt and kind and smart and weird book that makes me feel less alone. I google the man who wrote The Orphaned Adult and learn his wife helped him write it. I tell myself the words are all his. The man lives in Pittsburgh. I tell myself he lives in Denver. When the man wrote The Orphaned Adult, he had thick, dark hair. Now it's white and almost gone. The wife who helped him write The Orphaned Adult is his second. His first wife left when he came home from the hospital to tell her his father was dying. Before he could speak, she said, "This marriage is over." He said, "Why now? Why now?" She never answered. He should have married me. I'm not the kind of woman who says, "This marriage is over" and leaves. Even if my marriage were over, I wouldn't say it. My marriage isn't over. My marriage isn't over. I'm just confused because my father is dead.