The year my best friend moved away, I was forced to make some new ones to fill the void. Riding the bus home from school one day, I found one. Duane and I didn’t have a whole lot in common, but when you’re in third grade, you don’t need to. We both had bicycles and liked playing in the creek. When you’re eight years old, sometimes that’s enough to base a friendship on. It’s been so long that I don’t remember much about Duane. He grew up in Mississippi, and had the accent to prove it. His toys were low-tech… (read more)