April 8, 2017:

He understands better what happened.

She was the confidante he could communicate with. Finish each other's sentences, talk for hours together in bed or separated on phones.

The only one, and as his friends expressed their dislike for her he dropped them one by one, until she became the literal only one, the sole source of emotional support and companionship and sex and love. So that when she ghosted his devastation was compounded by a loneliness better described as exile.

Today he has many friends, a therapist, meds — and a certain small store of wisdom born of experience. Recent small echoes are very sad. They're not the end of the world, they're not even a world. It's just a speedbump.

Why are people not who they say they are?