Unchained melodies

I never met Anna Sorokin in person, but I know that Chloe did. We haven't really talked about it, she just mentioned it casually, in passing, like one of those pointless anecdotes you sometimes bring up only to break the silence.

Not the we ever needed it, of course. She was more than a friend to me, more like a sister or a lover, and maybe she still is although we haven't spoken or met in years. Time fades away so slowly and yet so quickly, as if to remind us of things we would prefer to forget.

I do it all the time but then something always happens to remind me, and I remember why I still have to do this, why I still need to stay on this path I've chosen, right or wrong, for better or for worse. There are times when it's felt like nothing but a waste of breath, but it always somehow comes back to this.

Pink like my heart

Every guy I ever met more than twice has insisted on buying me underwear. It started when I was 14 in LA and made a cute but all too fragile college freshman get me and Chloe alcohol. I knew he was in love with me but finally had to end it when he sent me a pair of stay-ups in the mail, with a handwritten note I've tried to forget ever since.

Some have better taste than others, but whatever they buy says something important about their personalities:

• Anything from a generic brand: you will never end up writing a novel/become an actor like you say you want

• Just a bra: you pretend like you know me just to get close enough to fuck me

• A whole set: too pretentious for your own good

I've always preferred a pair of panties. It tells me you're honest about your intentions, and if you pick the right ones I might even consider letting you see me in them.

Pictured: the pair a friend of a friend discretely slipped into my coat pocket after dinner last night.