Dear “friend”
My mom made an extra batch of her special cookies to take over to your house last weekend. I just remembered and delivered them since you live right next door. You knocked them out of my hand and into the dirt and said you didn’t want any of her nasty cookies because they would make you fat like me.
You used to love them, we used to eat them together in our secret treehouse when we were younger.
I wish you had just said you didn’t want them. They were the last batch she made before she died on Monday.
-Confused
