While gazing out my sliding glass door at the waving palm trees and purple evening sky, my best friend was holed up in an ancient brick building with the rest of her dorm as winds howled around them.
I know that girl. Well, kind of. She doesn’t know me, but I know her. I know her first and last name and I’ve seen so many of her photos on Facebook and we have so many mutual friends that I practically am friends with her in real life anyways. She just doesn’t know it. Or does she? Oh, Facebook. You’re turning me into such a creepy p
