Momento Mori: The Musings of a Grieving Teen

Mulder, it’s me. Cling clang. Hey, dork. I don’t know why, but Sybil and I were never able to greet each other in a straightforward fashion. There was never any ‘hello, how are you’ or formal greeting of each other. Our friendship was built on our oddly specific interests and the natural connection we had with each other. We had a handshake that was as disruptive as possible to the people around us and a language all our own. (It was a combination of Latin, Pirate code and Morse code). We had rituals that we followed like clockwork. Sundays at 9, that was Game of Thrones night…