We moved to New York when I was fourteen, leaving me heartbroken for over a year. It wasn't that I hated America - just that I loved Australia more than anywhere else in the world.
The town I had grown up in was quiet. The kind of quiet that meant that everybody knew everybody; and nobody could keep very many secrets - which to me, as a child, was not ideal. However, looking back now after a little over three years in New York, I was looking forward to the quiet again.
I had lived with my mum, dad and younger sister. Two doors down lived my best friend. Thinking back, I really had missed Luke. Yet now, as a seventeen year old moving back with my family for the last year of school, I was more apprehensive than excited to see him again.
We'd had scattered conversations over the time I'd been gone, but we'd rapidly grown less close, which made sense considering we were about 9,930 miles apart. He seemed happy I was coming back though, despite how much both of us had changed since we were fourteen.
