Two years ago, Mia blocked Jake on Facebook. Not because of a dramatic fight, but because of a slow, silent drift that soured into annoyance. He posted too much about his keto diet. She got tired of his political rants. One Tuesday night, after a bad day at work, she saw his comment on a mutual friend’s post—something harmless but irritating—and clicked Block . It felt satisfying, like slamming a door.
Mia cried for an hour. Then she opened Facebook, went to her Blocked Users list, and found his name. Her finger hovered. Unblocking felt like undoing a mistake she didn’t know she’d made.
Inside was a memory she’d never heard. Her brother, at 16, had saved up for months to buy a cheap guitar. Jake, then a lanky kid from down the street, taught him three chords. They’d written a terrible song together called “Microwave Pizza Forever.” Jake had recorded a video of it—grainy, off-key, perfect. Her brother was laughing so hard he snorted. unblock someone on fb
He replied: “With extra regrets.”
The funeral was a blur. But three days later, she got an email. Not through Facebook—Jake had found her work address. The subject line read: “The best story your brother ever told.” Two years ago, Mia blocked Jake on Facebook
“He talked about you all the time,” Jake wrote. “I know we fell out of touch. But I thought you should have this.”
She typed: “Microwave pizza forever?” She got tired of his political rants
The Algorithm of Regret