She was looking for the car registration when she found the letter. Folded, yellowed. Her name on the envelope in his handwriting, from eight years ago. She read it and laughed out loud on the bedroom floor. God, he had been dramatic. The paragraph where he compared her to weather. The bit about the cat, which wasn't even their cat. She could hear twenty-four-year-old him being so grave about all of it. They had been ridiculous back then. They had still been together and texted each other like normal people now, but this specific version of him, this letter-writing version — she loved that he had existed. She tucked the letter back, still smiling.
