I remember how your finger nails grow. When you've forgotten to clip them, something you hate to do, the whites grow upward, making it look like there is a dent in the middle of your nails.

What do you even do now? Do you still wear white pleather athletic shoes in a size that I could never dream of fitting my feet into?

Somehow you grew two inches in college. I'm still not sure how you pulled that one off.

There was a girl who used to annoy us with her incessant talk of boys-- boys who would never like her, boys who she thought liked us, boys who she has let touch her boobs.

Her boobs. That was what she talked about the most. We had a mutual friend who saw them once and she said they made her sad because there were stretch marks all over them. We never had boobs, but you had more than me. Sometimes, when I forgot my clothes at home, I'd have to borrow one of your bras and the underwire itched and I didn't know how you could stand it.

For awhile I lived at your house, on your floor. One night, you asked if you could sleep on the air mattress with me. I'm still not quite sure why. You told me about how your older brother's ex-fiancé spent the night once and you talked about real things, but I guess they weren't really all that important or I would remember them. I remember you talked in your sleep that night. I kicked you.

You drooled on your pillow too.

Labels: boobs, boys, Ex-best friends, finger nails, girls, I miss you, teenagers