He must be at least 30 now, even though I could not remember a single instance in our five-year correspondence that alluded to that. After all, what is age but circumstances? I was 16 or 17 when we first met. There were approximately a million ways for us to get in touch with each other and none of them had to involve a phone number or Facebook Messenger. Social media, like Lana Del Rey sings, “you’re my religion; you’re how I’m living.” There are rituals based on the kind of guts you spill and hang on a white space. The Internet exploits the loneliest cards dealt to us, or maybe the cards dealt to us when we feel the most alone. What doesn’t make me feel alone now is across a table, after two minutes of silence, when two people look up from the menu, realize they couldn’t decide between the same two things and so they order one of each to share.