Years ago, in grad school, a friend of mine started a documentary club. Six of us, once a month, in someone’s apartment, whoever’s turn it was, picked the film.

One of the members, I’ll call her Kate, had been in our wider circle for a couple of years. She showed up to everything — birthdays, housewarmings, going-away parties — and was fun. I couldn’t have told you one thing about her interior life.

She wasn’t a documentary person and everyone knew this, including her. I invited her anyway, because not inviting her would have been conspicuous; she would have noticed and I would have had to explain. She accepted, I assume, for the same reason.

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Before the first meeting, she asked if we could postpone. I don’t remember the reason — I........

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