“We have a cabinet in our apartment called The Witch Cabinet; it’s full of knick-knacks: tarot cards, random rocks, bottle caps, buttons; there’s a whole beaver skull in there. Our walls are covered in murals. Our windowsills are covered with random bunches of dried flowers that we meant to put in jars. She could describe the relationship better. She’s better with words than me. But if there’s such thing as a platonic soulmate—Emme is that. She’s the first person I send anything. My God, absolutely anything: I want to try this video game, I want to try this recipe, I want to try this restaurant—so you’re going with me. I have a favorite podcast called The Old Gods of Appalachia. Emme’s never even heard of it. But they’re having a show tonight, and she’s coming along. We’ve been roommates for seven years. It's the first time I’ve ever lived in a home where I was allowed to speak up about things that bothered me. Emme taught me how to do the ‘friend call-out.’ You know, like: ‘You’re my best friend. But what you’re doing is really fucking shitty.’ The first time it happened, it was a big ‘oh yeah’ moment for me. Like, oh yeah: there’s a way to talk about hard things without yelling at each other, or ignoring each other. She’s helped me work through a lot of stuff. And I’ve tried to help her with some things too. She’s not exactly where she wants to be right now; sometimes she blames herself. It’s like, girl-- you’re the hardest worker I know; it’s obviously the fucking job market. She also has no idea how pretty she is. It’s like, girl—are you seeing what I’m seeing? Then one time she actually said: ‘I’m not that fun.’ Not that fun? Girl, you light up a fucking room.’” http://t.cn/A6NvpxjV