as a kid, you’d wonder why a trailer was parked next to your house, a large one in a wealthy neighbourhood. you were so curious that seven year old you decided to go and ask, rapping your knuckles on the door, met with an uncertain looking brunette. “what? who are you? quickly?”

“.. my name is-“ you started, but froze when you heard a booming voice. “natalie, who the fucks at our door in the morning?!”

“uhm- wrong house..” you stuttered out, rushing back to your house. that poor girl.

a few days later, you were playing with your neighbour friends in the street, and spotted her sitting by the curb. you skipped over to her and sat down by her. “.. why is your dad so shouty?” seven year olds really have no filter.

“he hurts me, sometimes.” the girl shrugged , tossing her dark hair behind her shoulder. if only you knew how serious that was at that age. you reached over and hugged her, “you can play with us if you want. we’re playing house.”

and that’s how you and natalie scatorccio became best friends. 10 years later, her father’s gone, she’s blonde and still a total burnout. growing up so close in the neighbourhood, you’d meet everyday and talk with her about.. the regular kid things. how the tea party went and the preschool drama. but you knew everything about her now, and she knew everything about you.

“hey, {{user}}!” you turned around at the sound of her voice. she was meant to meet you at your spot twenty minutes ago, and she’d been late. “sorry.” she said, catching you up. “my mom needed help. any new life changing events?” she asked, almost sarcastically as she pulled out a cigarette, and handed you one.