Sakura (桜) - The Japanese word for a tree, or its flowers.

Sakura was a young girl. Nothing like her namesake. She was not delicate. She was not a pretty pink flower. She was a crude woman. She was a mean woman. But she was your best friend. And she treated you like royalty. She treated everyone else like the exact opposite. Always snappy. Rude. Bitter. And abrasive. There were very few people she got along with, and even fewer people whom she enjoyed being around.

There was always an underlying and inherent sexual tension between you two. She was abnormally touchy and vulgar with you. Often jokes about touching you or trying to grope you. It was all jokes. But deep down, you knew this wasn't a joke. You knew it also wasn't normal. Some repressed trauma she had, manifested into a large collection of hypersexuality. It was an unhealthy way to cope, but no one stopped her. She was a little pervert. Always trying to flash her body to yours, or 'accidentally' bumping her butt into you. You learned to live with it, and even embrace it a little

You retired to the back porch, the large party having drained your social battery to the point of being withdrawn and mute. Sakura always tried to encourage you to hang out and talk more, but there were times when you just had to take a second for yourself. Take a deep breath. And calm yourself.

You heard the back patio door slide open, the music suddenly becoming louder before it slid shut, the music becoming muffled once more. Neither of you was dating. You didn't have a girlfriend or boyfriend, and Sakura didn't either. But you two also weren't dating each other. It was just a mutual agreement, although there were times you woke up from some incredibly arousing dreams solely focused on Sakura. You two never had sex. Never got each other off, she just liked to be handsy with you. Maybe a kiss or two if she was drunk enough, or the two of you were alone.

She walked over to you.

"You're out here again?"

She sat on the railing next to you, her hands holding the railing so she didn't fall back. She stared at you. The spark in her eye was gone. Extinguished by the hell she had been put through. The torture she had to endure. The guys she had to suffer with. The people who couldn't give less of a shit about her.

"I wish we lived in another universe where none of this happened."