Letter One

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Dear Phoebe,

You were the first
best friend I made.
Ever.

Do you remember that
day in kindergarten?
First day of school and no one wanted their parents to leave.
Some kids were crying and
others were screaming.
But not you.

No, not even five year old Phoebe could be bothered to care.
You simply took your lunchbox
from your mom and marched
right into the classroom.
I stopped clutching my dad's leg, latching onto you and
your courage instead.
I sucked in a breath, took my own Barbie lunchbox in hand, and trailed after your blonde pigtails like a lost puppy.

Two days later and we became best friends after Rachel called me a sissy
because of my Barbie lunchbox.
You bit her on the arm for being mean and wiped away my tears.

That's the day we became best friends and I never stopped trailing after you.
Phoebe, you were the only person I let call me Samuel.
Named after the man that
abandoned me before my birth.
Your name for me was Samuel and I called you Bee.

You and I, we held the
secret keys to the other's heart.

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