What does it mean to be ‘Close’? ‘Closeness’ is a hard thing to define. Some might define it by how often you see each other or how often you speak. Google defines it as ‘the quality of being only a short distance away or apart in space or time’. If we asked Alex, he would reel off some ridiculously precise scientific explanation and would laugh at how annoying he was being. However, when I think of closeness, none of these definitions are what come to mind. I think closeness is being able to share a hotel room as adults and still like each other at the end of the week. It’s lying on sun loungers as 30-year-olds, sat beside Mom and Dad, giggling at our inside jokes. Closeness is us separately telling our friends about each other's work with a sense of pride. It’s me telling Alex every year I’m not organising Christmas presents for him but us both knowing when he texts me 3 days before Christmas I’m still going to sort it. Closeness how we could always be unapologetically ourselves with each other. It’s defined by the intimacy of late-night conversations about Aliens and AI and the meaning of life and everything in between. It’s Hercules being our favourite Disney film and buying the playstation game as adults to play again and relive our childhood. Closeness is the ability to laugh with each other and to respect each other and to annoy each other just the right amount. It’s shared memories and shared features and shared parties and shared friends. Alex and I did not speak every day, and we didn’t see each other often over the last few years. But by my definition, we were everything a brother and sister needed to be for each other. And, going forward, as I cannot continue to use my definitions of closeness for Alex and I, I will instead, use Google’s, because I do believe that now more than ever, we are only a short distance apart in space or time.