Brooks: How long will you be in Australia?
 
 Henley: Forever?
 
 Henley: Joking. Or not.
 
 Henley: It’s BEAUTIFUL, Brooks.
 
 Henley: You HAVE to visit.
 
 I want to hop on a plane yesterday and meet her in the future.
 
 Brooks: I’ll add it to my bucket list.
 
 Henley: Do. Promise me.
 
 Brooks: For always.
 
 A pause.
 
 I’ve scared her.
 
 Shit.
 
 Henley: For keeps.
 
 Henley: I really do miss you. I wanted to carve our names into the Great Wall, but I couldn’t bring myself to maim it.
 
 Brooks: Me too.
 
 Henley: I miss our rock.
 
 Brooks: What’s your #?
 
 She sends it without delay, and I grab my cell, texting the photo that sits as my wallpaper, and wait.
 
 Henley: You have a photo of it!!
 
 Brooks: It's my phone background.
 
 My phone rings a second later, and I answer faster than humanly possible.
 
 “Why did we let ourselves get here?”
 
 Her voice sounds so sad. So broken. So much like how I remember it from all those years ago. And all I want to do is crawl through the phone and hug her, reassure her as I used to.
 
 “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
 
 “Are you happy?” she asks quietly.
 
 “I love my job. I love the places it takes me.”
 
 “That’s not what I asked you,” she pushes.
 
 I sigh. It’s a poignant question. One with an answer I’ve never been game enough to admit, even to myself. “No. I don’t think so.”
 
 “Me either. Being lonely when surrounded by people feels silly, but it’s the only way to describe how I feel.”
 
 I close my eyes.