I was only pregnant for seven and a half weeks before my miscarriage. There was no body, no breath; there was no measurable part of a lifetime spent together. I’d only known there was life inside my body for three and half weeks, and yet the experience seems to still have a heartbeat.

“I would’ve cried if someone hadn’t started singing, and then someone else joined in.”

What do you do when you love people who live far away? You break out your best stationery and write a friendship into existence, obviously.