Before my ex-boyfriend killed himself on Saturday, I’m sure he reminisced about the times we spent together as wide-eyed, impressionable freshmen. He thought of the flirtatious glances we first exchanged during the orientation seminar, the way we found ourselves sitting across from each other during our group’s first cafeteria meal. He remembered our first kiss, hesitantly stolen in an on-campus enclave of moonlit roses and lilac. He remembered the weather, which had remained sunny and strong all throughout our month-long romance. He remembered how dating came so easily to us, a hopeful sign that perhaps college would be just as effortless and fluid.

I mean, how could he have forgotten?