"I used to feel a sense of comfort when a little red dot on my iPhone’s home screen showed 42 unread text messages. This was earlier in the pandemic, when we were still Zooming for pleasure, and everything, especially when I’d see my friends again, felt uncertain. A group text with six idiots I met in college was suddenly a lifeline; scrolling through hundreds of their messages a day gave me oxygen. I wanted to know how they felt about every viral news story. Had they seen the photos of Channing Tatum giving Zoë Kravitz a piggyback on his bike (yes)? Were they ditching oat milk for whole milk like all the other hot girls (no)? Thoughts on Hilaria Baldwin’s secret surrogacy (please stop)? We did selfie roll calls and sent videos of ourselves singing songs from Les Misérables. Then, this spring, the messages started to sharply peter out. Questions like “What’s everyone doing?” would go unanswered. Days passed on the chat with virtual crickets until earlier this summer, when one friend boldly declared, “This thread is D.E.A.d.” No one disagreed."