All walks of life. One in many drops of rain in a storm, stars in the suburban sky, gusts in a tornado.
I'm saying this because I have two supercalifragilisticexpialidocious friends of my own, and although we might not get along 24/7, they are still one of the best things that have ever happened to me.
A friendship is a speck of dust in an abandoned house, bountiful as the showers that fall during monsoon. Millions and trillions of friendships develop in such an astoundingly beautiful manner that it never ceases to impress me.
Nevertheless, friendships are also the vibrant wings of butterflies, just one tiny pinch, and they snap. Broken, forgotten, deserted. False rumours passed around, wafting through the air like petrichor after rain, creating tension so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. Drifting apart. Just. Like. That.
Secrets, lies, terrible, horrible, consequences. This is what...