In the days when we were young and free at 12 or 14 or 22 or somewhere in between, we walked and danced and ran and sang and we were the girls who were not killed. We went to the mall with our best friend, just two blonde girls or brunette, buying pink frosted nail polish and 45s for a dollar. Our mothers, one or the other, dropped us off there to spend the day. We ate hot pretzels and tried on cheap spaghetti strap tops and…
