Laura is one of my best and oldest friends. She told stories from when she was around Marz's age: about being told by her college calculus teacher, for instance, that her grades would be better if she didn't read novels tucked into her textbook during class, and about how she chose a life of art over medicine.
Laura also tried to convince Marz she shouldn't move away to a warmer climate, as Marz would like to do. Today, the dark cold seemed far away.
We water-colored after lunch. If we catch enough summer in paintings, could they warm us in winter?
This is Laura's: