Things sure have been different on the new planet since you left. We try to get things going: pick-up games of softball or coffee and donuts before school, but you're all people talk about. Every conversation inevitably just leads to someone going on and on about what a good dancer you were, how you always made us laugh at parties, how much you look like James Dean. Every now and then someone thinks they hear your name bouncing off a satellite and we all go running, but it's usually nothing. We've lost entire afternoons to discussing how much we wish you'd come back. We understand why you wouldn't, but it doesn't keep every passing comet from sounding like you coming in for a landing. It's no way to live, really, but it's what we got.