London Looks Better on Me — The Metal Box

That was Sophie. She always knew exactly when to look vulnerable. She always knew how to make everyone think I was the one hurting her. This has nothing to do with you.

I want to leave. She looked up at me with watery eyes. Really? You're not mad at me?

No. Then can you stay? She grabbed my hand. Or at least wait until Luke gets back.

He'll figure out a way to help you. I pulled my hand free. My flight leaves at six the morning after tomorrow. She froze.

Something flashed through those beautiful eyes. It disappeared too quickly for me to tell what it was. Then she smiled. Then I'll come see you off.

You don't have to. I do. You're my best friend. My best friend.

As she said those words, I remembered her calling me fatty in front of a client three months ago. I remembered the video of her imitating me tugging at my clothes being shared more than 200 times, and I remembered Luke laughing harder than anyone. Whatever, I said. She happily wrapped

her arms around me. Sarah, don't forget me once you get there, okay? I said nothing. As she let go, my phone buzzed. A message from Luke. I don't agree. I looked at it for two seconds. turned off my phone. After Sophie left, I kept packing. At the very back of a drawer, I found a metal box filled with little things I had collected over the past eight years. A birthday

Luke gave me during our sophomore year of high school. Happy birthday, Sarah. Hope you get braver every year. A friendship bracelet Sophie had made.

Red cord with a tiny bead. The day she made it, she tried to slip it over my wrist. It dug into my skin, leaving a red mark. She gasped.