t’s the seasonal shift, the boomerang-bending-back to turn and return to the hands that cradled us, once, but also the melancholy of realizing all the things that were supposed to happen during the year and didn’t. I think he knew that. I think that’s why I couldn’t count on much from my ex-penpal ex-boyfriend, but I could rely on him remembering me in December, reaching for me in December.