We were standing in the bathroom, 4 a.m., the punchy hour; we split into hysterics. I no longer remember why, but I remember her telling me about my laugh - how silly it was, how girly it was, how high, in contrast to my regular voice (on my best days and also my worst, it's low and, I like to think, threatening). She said it was cute. She said it was charming.

The last time I saw her, she was in tears. I did not want to miss her but I do.