We met when I was five, and I thought your hair was grey. (It was really blonde, but you never corrected me.) You ate grass and yelled our opinions to the heavens even when no one else liked them, C. We admired each other in ways I’ve mostly forgotten, but I still remember your face, so there’s that.
I left you but a year and a half later. I wonder where you’ve been since? It’s been over a decade for a few years now, but I’m too scared to find out. Afraid our days as little girls on the playground will be spoiled by the here and now.
Maybe I’ll grow brave as you were, C. I’ll forever be your D, haah.