The weird thing is, I miss Stephanie sometimes. Or maybe I miss what she symbolized to me, how she fit into my life at the time she was in it. I liked her. When we met she was a grouchy creature with a monotone voice that reminded me of a droid, or a more intense version of Aubrey Plaza’s characters, and that persona didn’t evolve much as we got to know one another on the phone for hours every night. We didn’t exactly get to know one another. We just pushed words around between us. Same words everybody else used. Her humor was always couched in some bleak wasteland and framed in a self-aware pessimism. I don’t know if she would enjoy hearing herself described this way but for whatever reason I found it endearing and attractive. It was authentic, that was why. It never brought me down. There was a terrific dryness to her personality that kept me interested in how her unique puzzle pieces fit. She had so many stories about her past life — past lives — that I had no choice but to think that some of them were exaggerated. She wanted to tell me all of them. I don’t know why. Maybe she wanted to impress me or maybe she wanted someone to tell her she was still a good person.

She never asked me much about my life or ever seemed particularly interested in my thoughts or views on anything, but she did appreciate my willingness to listen and play weird word games on the phone as we talked about art, grief, traveling, relationships, photography, and collecting strange objects. She might not have asked me many questions but she was a perceptive girl, and she knew I took a genuine interest in her. Maybe she liked me because I was authentic too. The only time her android voice changed was when I made her laugh, a tinkling collection of wind chimes that echoed in my head like an elven performance. I loved her laugh.

I don’t think of her very often anymore. I feel bad that we were both in equally dismal places when we last saw one another. The chemistry withered and the ties that connected us frayed and unraveled like an old worn rope. I’m learning not to fight those powerful natural forces that bring people together and break them apart. Maybe I’ll hear from her again. I liked knowing her. Sometimes on nights like tonight I remember this is when we would be enraptured in one of our endless conversations.