Date: Friday, March 21, 2025
Mood: Haunted
Music: Linger by The Cranberries
Dear Richard,
I was at dinner with Levi tonight. A loud, trendy Italian place on Melrose. The acoustics were terrible—clattering silverware, shouting waiters, thumping bass.
Then, cutting through the noise like a knife, I heard it.
Your laugh.
Not just a laugh like yours. Your laugh. That specific, deep, three-note bark that starts in the chest and ends in a wheeze. Ha-HA-hnggg.
My neck snapped around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
I scanned the booth behind me. I was desperate. I expected to see you sitting there with a beer, head thrown back, eyes crinkled shut.
It was a stranger. A heavy-set guy with a beard, laughing at a joke his date told.
I stared at him for too long. Levi kicked me gently under the table. "Earth to Taylor," he said. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said, turning back to my pasta. "Just... thought I heard someone I knew."
I spent the rest of the meal straining my ears, waiting for the stranger to laugh again. Just so I could steal a little piece of the sound.
I realized tonight that I’m forgetting your voice. I can’t quite conjure the tone of it anymore. But apparently, my brain saved the laugh file in high definition.
Love always,
Taylor