"I barely knew Alex." The real Jay speaks up, hesitant, clumsy. "We, we had a couple classes together, and we hung out a few times, and he, uh, he tried to kill me."

He didn't know Alex. He only knew the Alexes saved on film, hidden in the attic or in grocery bags or in a safe or in a cooler in the backseat of his car, played back over and over enough that it almost felt like companionship.

And this is the hard part, but he's talking now, and he doesn't stop. "At least you...gave a shit, y'know?"