I really, really liked this story and resonated strongly with the narrator. The flow between the sometiems straightforward prose and the intricate thoughts of the narrator is spectacular. I liked this section when he was thinking about Allie's roomate:

There she was, probably turning up the music in her room while me and my love visited utter destruction on each other. Does she ever think about us? Somewhere in France, we are in a woman’s head. She looks up from her phone, the flight of a bird has reminded her of something else; for a moment what is gone returns. Love is most often a resurrected thing.

I also came across an essay HolyWhiteMountain wrote in The Atlantic that gives us more insight into his personal life (this story seems to be a reflection on it): https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2018/11/blackfeet-brain-drain/568156/.