Literature
Best Friends and Birthdays
You are twelve years old.
Your best-- and, perhaps, only-- friend in the world sits beside you on a swing set, the breeze tickling both of your faces in a pleasant sort of manner. School ended half an hour ago. He-- your best friend-- had wanted to take a walk, and so you indulged him, following him over to the park a few blocks away, where you both sat now, hands clutched tight against the rusty chains suspending your warped plastic seat.
You are twelve years old, and the sky is a pleasant shade of blue. Not too intense, not too watered-down, but just the right mixture of cloud and sky. The air is a little bit chilly and the grass is a lit