You Never Forget Your First Love: Part 1
A young woman hears tragic news about her childhood friend
It was three in the morning on a Wednesday when my cell rang on the nightstand next to my bed. I didn't want to answer it because those late-night calls are never good. I let it go to voicemail and rolled over to try to get back to sleep. It rang twice more, so the fourth time I looked at the caller, and it was my mother. I was in Bern, Switzerland, attending a conference for the student exchange program, of which I'm the...