It took a few days before he let me speak to him again. I’d make a crude joke and he’d laugh, nervously. It’s not because I thought I was funny or to fill the silence but because he made it impossible for me to be myself. So I told ugly jokes and I didn’t make him laugh. When really I wanted to ask him was what he thinks about when he wakes up, because I always forget to check. And I wanted to ask what his parents call him, because that’s something people never talk about. And I wanted to ask him if he believed in me, because I was losing hope.