“My 76-Year-Old Grandpa Took Me Into the Woods Every Day and Made Me Undress Until I Was Half-Naked. But One Day, My Mother Secretly Followed Us and Heard Strange Screams Coming From Deep Inside the Forest. When She Got Closer and Saw What We Were Actually Doing, Her Heart Couldn’t Take It. She Fell to Her Knees and Burst Into Tears…”

Beside it sat a woman in a wheelchair.

She wore a pale blue cardigan and held a small bouquet of wildflowers in her lap. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back, and her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the armrests.

For several seconds, my mother stared at the stranger.

Then the woman lifted her head.

“Sarah?”

My mother’s face went completely pale.

The bouquet slipped from the woman’s hands and landed in the grass.

“Mary?” my mother whispered.

Neither of them moved.

Then my mother covered her mouth.

“Oh, my God.”

Twenty-five years earlier, Sarah and Mary had been inseparable.

They had grown up on the same street, attended the same school, and shared the kind of friendship that made them feel more like sisters than friends.

When Sarah’s father died, Mary was the one who sat beside her through the night.

When Mary was heartbroken over her first serious relationship, Sarah was the one who drove across town with ice cream and stayed until sunrise.