Standing outside her house, which was very familiar to me, was unsettling. I had been in and out of this house my entire teenage life. I could still remember the living room, the kitchen, the number of rooms upstairs, even the swing at the back of the house. Now, I could not even set foot on the front porch.
She was the one person who could help me, and I had to talk to her. She knew me better than I knew myself right now. I needed her, more than ever, but I was not sure if she would accept my presence with open arms. We did get separated for a reason.
When we were still young, we either hanged out at my place with Harry or we just retreated to her room for some girly time. She was my bestfriend since we were in our diapers. We shared almost all our young experiences, both the happy and the sad ones.