I had a friend who used to keep me up late at night talking. We plotted and planned escapades of fantasy among the stars, the sea, behind mirrors, and through time.

Some horrible things happened; life interrupted our fanciful dreams, leaving them half accomplished, frayed. I tried to stay in touch. There was no goodbye.

I can’t help but think about what they may be up to day to day as each one passes and I don’t hear from them. It feels like breaking up. I am beginning to mourn them as dead. Shall I keep any hope alive that they will contact me as intelligent life to Earth?

I’ve long since stopped feeling the urge to share every funny moment of my day with them. I’ve forgotten what their voice sounds like, their laughter, encouragement, even how grateful I once was just to get one hour of their time.

At times there are moments when I glimpse my friend, odd signs, things that remind me of them. I watch the alien ghost of them slip in and out, convinced another person is parading in their skin.

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