You Have to Come to My Funeral

Sometimes she's the person in a book who watches the evening twilight with me at five o'clock. Sometimes, when I went through a breakup, she was the one who rushed to my place, gave me a good beating, and told me to get myself together instead of looking like some country bumpkin.

From those evening clouds to that beating, it was a full seven years, from when we were twelve or thirteen to when we were eighteen or nineteen.

Two little girls stumbled and tumbled their way into adulthood, anxious as could be.

Theme: A story about a friend