Their friendship was a story of stories told, going all the way back to childhood. Sarabeth could still remember the summer day when Liz's family arrived on Cowper Street, when she and Liz were eight. Liz's first story, told that afternoon as the two of them sat on the curb eating Creamsicles: during the long drive across country from Pennsylvania, her little brother had thrown up seven times.
--From "Songs Without Words" by Ann Packer
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