She visited me in a dream. From the fabric of a quiet mind, Ryder appeared. Like others before her, she posed questions—curious about the mundane, though she herself embodied anything but. We shared tea in garden spaces, seated at a child’s table too small for us, yet perfectly fitting in that world. We wandered through dim alleyways after late-night gatherings, intent on procuring sweets. We spent hours reminiscing, like one would with a beloved after years apart. She had chosen her own name; it resonated before I saw her…