Two mothers were friends. They both had daughters, one a year older than the other. They were overjoyed at the thought of them being friends, so friends their daughters became. Those two little girls were Sarah and I.

Sarah and I were the best of friends. She lived far, but that was a hardly a barrier. We could have been literally attached to the hip, and we wouldn't care. We probably would have delighted in the fact that we would never be apart. We were completely comfortable together, to the point where Jamie would dig inside her nose and wipe its contents on me. As a child, Sarah was extremely carefree. Her happy screeches would grate on one's ears, and it'd never be forgotten. She radiated confidence and exuberance, and she didn't care what other people thought. . Her boyish mannerisms thrilled me, and I wanted to be with her forever.

One day, my mom took us to a toy store. Upon entering the store, we were amazed. There were toys stuffed on every single shelf, and the store was overflowing with vivaciousness. Hearts beating fast at the aspect of bringing home one of these toys, Sarah and I locked eyes before darting through the store. We skimmed the shelves, not finding anything to our satisfaction. Our stubby little fingers reached out to a possible new friend that one could hold through the night, but none passed the test until we saw them on the top shelf.

Sitting right next to each other were the most perfect doggies we had ever seen. One was a husky with cerulean eyes and warm, grey fur. The other was a dog with spots and freckles, and floppy ears framed its long face. My lips stretched into a wide grin when I noticed that we were both staring at the pair. We knew which ones we wanted now.

I reached for the husky, and she reached for the one with the floppy ears. We named them right there and then. The husky was named Slushie, and the one with spots was named Speckle. However impractical it was, we made a pact that our stuffed animals would be best friends too. We sealed the deal with a pinky promise. Her longer pinky curled around my short, fat one, and we shook our hands once.

From then on out, when we had play dates, we would bring Slushie and Speckle along. We'd personify them and act out their personalities, which were remarkably similar to our own. They'd do everything with us, almost to the point where it was annoying. Eventually as we outgrew the stuffed animals, the animals were placed out of the front of our minds, and we turned to other things for entertainment, like painting toenails and sharing stories about the latest adventures from school. The stuffed animals would remain at our homes, left behind underneath the bed or stuffed in the closet with all the other stuffed animals we had outgrown over the years.

Then came the year when she moved. I remember sitting in her house with her, and she pointed to all the things in her room. "All of this," she said. "I'm going to have to give it all away."

It broke my heart that she would have to move from the place she had called home for the past thirteen years so I prayed. I prayed every single night that she wouldn't have to move. I even redrew an eye on my hand everyday for a four months to remind myself of this. Unfortunately, my prayers were not answered, and Jamie ended up moving to a house about seven minutes away from mine. I was still depressed that she had had to move, but it was great that we lived closer. I thought we could see each other more often, and I was ecstatic at the thought. However, once she started school, something just...changed in Sarah. It was as sudden as the flipping of a light switch. One moment it's bright, and the next it's dark.

Sarah started becoming withdrawn and moody. She couldn't even hold a simple conversation with me without snapping or becoming angry. Over a short period of time, these conversations stopped happening when she stopped interacting with my family and I. Her brows were constantly furrowed, and frown lines were ever present in her face, marking her unhappiness, her anger at the world. She would lash out at everyone and everything; her fury knew no bounds. Before I knew it, she had changed into someone I didn't know. I probably knew a stranger better than I knew her!


One day, when she was a little cooled off, I recalled our stuffed animals from the back of my mind. I was curious as to what she had done with Speckles, so I casually asked her. Her response twisted my heart into knots.

"Oh, that old thing? I threw him away ages ago."

I remembered Slushie in the closet where I had left her for years, and I knew that some of what happened was my fault.

While we were driving home, I saw where the lively toy store we had visited once was. It was in a nearly empty parking lot and a desolate shopping center, save for a Sears that close to no people go to. It was no longer a shop but just a lot that couldn't withstand the tests of time. I looked back once and shrugged.