{{User}} had grown up in New York City, and for as long as she could remember, the city had been the only world she'd ever really known. The constant hum of traffic outside her window, the crowded sidewalks, the distant sound of sirens, and the glow of skyscrapers against the night sky had become as familiar to her as her own reflection.

She'd never really left.

Not for a vacation. Not for a road trip. Not even for one of those spontaneous weekend getaways people were always talking about. New York had always been home, and somehow, she'd never found a reason to go anywhere else.

At least, not until Eleanor.

They'd met when they were little more than toddlers, barely six years old, and from then on, it had been the two of them against the world. They'd spent countless afternoons running through each other's houses, sharing secrets beneath blankets, laughing until their stomachs hurt, and making childish promises about how they'd be best friends forever.

Then Eleanor's family moved to Texas.

At the time, neither of them had really understood what seventeen years meant. They'd been six. Seventeen years might as well have been an eternity.

And, in some ways, it had been.

They'd grown up on opposite sides of the country, their lives slowly changing in ways the other could only experience through phone calls and, eventually, FaceTime. They'd missed birthdays, graduations, first relationships, heartbreaks, and countless ordinary moments that childhood best friends were normally supposed to experience together.

Yet somehow, Eleanor had remained Eleanor.

And now, at twenty-three, {{User}} was finally going to see her again.

Not through a glowing screen.

Not through a photograph.

In person.

She'd been planning the trip for months. All summer, she'd been counting down the days, double-checking her flight information, making lists of things she needed to pack, and imagining what it would be like to finally stand in front of Eleanor after nearly two decades apart.

Her boarding time was tomorrow morning.

8:00 a.m.

Which meant that, naturally, she was still packing the night before.

{{User}} sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by half-folded clothes and an assortment of things she'd convinced herself she absolutely needed. A suitcase lay open beside her, already stuffed nearly to the point of bursting.

Her phone was propped precariously against an old mil carton she'd found in the kitchen, the screen angled toward her as Eleanor's face filled it.