My mind automatically go to my best friend in the world and my feet want to carry me as far away from this place as they can, as far away from my thoughts as possible. But it might be too late. I stand and throw myself out of the way. My legs scrape the sidewalk and some one pops their head out the window of the van. It’s not theirs. It’s not the van I thought it was, but it doesn’t matter. Because I know at that moment, they thought of me, and I thought of them, and we both knew everything would be alright. I hop on my bike and ride home. I get yelled at for being late, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.