“It’s instructive to picture what this guy would actually look like IRL, some clown with a real emotional haircut, Crocs hanging off his feet, Urban Outfitters leather jacket hung over his IKEA futon, remnants of that Taco Bell burrito with the Fritos in it congregating at the corners of his mouth as he binges on Skyrim, blasts “Pumped Up Kicks” on infinite repeat, and gargles dozens of shots of, like, Goldschläger.”—
For the sake of the story and you as the reader being on my side, please imagine him as a cruel villain with a cape and a mustache and a grand, unsettling laugh. But he is not that at all. He is, in most ways, a very good and caring person who I miss very much. Smart and charming and all of that. Even now, on the very rare occasion that one of us sends the other a two-sentence email, it almost feels okay. But mostly it feels like two people who used to know one another.