I wanted “No Access . . .” to touch on what it means to be, or have been, in a relationship of great importance. As is the case for a lot of relationships, though not all, they can come to abrupt or even stupefying endpoints. Lovers, friends and family, work associates, people and their cherished animals; regardless of the nature of any given relationship, none are forever. Some, of course, can be long-lived, some short-lived, but forever, on this Earth, isn’t going to happen. If this story has anything to say, it’s that there has to be an adjustment made when any relationship hits its endpoint, regardless of whether the endpoint results in sorrow, relief, fear, disillusionment . . . all the usual suspects apply. Sometimes this adjustment can happen in a matter of hours, days, weeks. But sometimes, as is the case for the main character here, that adjustment can take decades or even the better part of a lifetime—ouch! Tennyson, I’ve always thought, was the true expert on these matters, his words—“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”—offer at least some sense of solace.