My last night in New York was spent with my two fifteen-year-old best friends, Americ and Sara, crying in our sleeping bags through the night, and then over the ruckus of the robins and warblers who greeted us at dawn. We promised to always be in touch and meant it, but at fifteen, when every change seemed ultradramatic, the weight of this impending move seemed to shift my whole body into waves of not even knowing how I could possibly live without these girls in my daily life.
