Crossroads [antikvár]

f PfUlUP U6* t) I I ll .w I LJ Vj V l ^ ^ J We were best friends. We were eight years old. And we knew exactly what we wanted out of life. So we put it in a box and we buried it. Mimi, Kit, and I dug a hole out at Hemmings Field that soft, early summer midnight. We stood under a tree, gazing solemnly down at the shoe box on the ground. Mimi, all wild hair and energy to burn. Kit, her beautiful brown face all chubby. And me, Lucy. Blond hair, and those serious eyes I always see in pictures of myself as a kid. The box was a work of art - or so we thought. Inside, wed placed our most heartfelt wishes for the future. Outside, it was covered in stickers and glitter. Wed let our creativity run wild. We wrapped it in plastic, so it wouldn't get ruined. Then