From 2004-2006, my friend Elizabeth and I shared a TINY (TINY TINY) apartment in the west village. We were both in grad school, we had a pet mouse and roasted a lot of broccoli and I discovered that it was possible to buy a bottle of wine and bring it home and drink it. She was the first ever person to text me. Most days heading home from class, we would text each other, What do we need from the store, do we need toilet paper? Twenty years later, she still sends me toilet paper, and it’s one of my favorite things about being alive, being a human, the ways in which we attach to each other, nurture our tiny connections and inside jokes, feed them slowly over the years and years of our lives. When we get together we feel 22. We remember the mouse. I hope to be 80 and sending her toilet paper, living life as a line, living all the years of it at once.