The crystal goblet felt absurdly light in my hand at the Met Gala afterparty, everyone discussing Rothko while I'd just come from a shift at the women's shelter on 47th where Maria showed me how to fold donated socks into perfect squares. A venture capitalist asked what I "did," and I said "nonprofit operations" instead of "I run a company" because the former felt honest and the latter felt like armor. Nobody followed up.