Illustration by Raquel
We don’t talk. She can’t, so I won’t. And that’s it.
Which is why my heart thumped like my mother testing a watermelon when she showed up in my inbox. I took a deep breath to brace myself and read the subject line:
Invitation to connect on LinkedIn
Just like that, a form email from a website I don’t even use filled my ears with her voice and pushed my tongue against her crooked teeth. An automated message, practically anonymous, triggered the emotional memory of a hundred emails breathlessly written, dizzily read.
If I search her name in my Gmail account, I’ll find all those notes with YouTube links and articles. I’ll find the photos my friend Caleb took of us for his class project, the ones tha...