A meeting of the minds.

On my way to work this morning, on a surpassingly beautiful summer's day, I ran into an old kvetchy friend of mine from days of yore.

We toiled together when the world was somewhat cooler and the business was somewhat kinder. But both of us being on the work-a-holic spectrum, neither had ever taken advantage of the bygone humanity of the business which, these days, has all but disappeared.

We bumped into each other on a noisy Manhattan street. This was at 7:15 and both of us were fairly rushing to our respective offices.

I spoke first.

"Diane."

"George."

We kissed while holding our work bags and our coffees.

"How are you?" I began.

"I'm well now," Diane said, "but last week I thought I had a cold. It turned out to be a sinus infection."

"They can really knock you out," I added, adding nothing.

"On Thursday and Friday, I thought I was dying," she said. "I stayed in bed all weekend taking antibiotics."

"And, of course, you were back at your desk on Monday. You should take two sick days just out of principle."

She gave me the look a young deer gives you after you shoot its mother.

"I've been doing this for 40 years," she said getting into a cab. "I don't think I've ever taken a sick day."

We kissed again goodbye.

"Me neither," I said. And I hustled into my ride share.

We streamed our separate ways down the avenue, waving goodbye through dirty glass.