Daphne juggled two sacks of groceries against a hip as she fumbled with her keys, hoping that if she dropped a bag it wouldn’t be the one holding the eggs. Once safely inside the house she rushed into the kitchen, put the eggs, milk and orange juice into the fridge, then left the non-perishables on the counter before hurrying into her office. She took a seat at the desk and powered on the computer, then checked the time on the screen to see how late she was. Ten minutes. Not that bad for her, but probably ten minutes later than Skylar, whose schedule tended to run like clockwork. She logged into her email account and clicked to open the link Skylar had sent, hoping she wouldn’t flub her first ever attempt at video chatting.

In a flash her friend appeared on Daphne’s computer. “Hi Skylar!”

“Hey hot stuff! It’s great to see you, even if it’s just on a screen. Can you believe it’s been over a year since we were last together in the flesh? Scary how fast time is flying.”

“Tell me about it. Emma’s junior prom is tomorrow.”

“Junior prom? How is that possible? In my head she’s still in diapers. Then again, in my head I still have no wrinkles. Or cellulite.”

“I wouldn’t mind looking like you,” Daphne said. Seated at her desk in her spacious Manhattan office, Skylar had her auburn locks pulled back into a low ponytail, her lovely face framed by expensive tortoise-shell reading glasses that complemented the tiniest of freckles on her fair cheeks. As always, Daphne thought, her college friend managed to look both appropriately corporate andimpossibly stylish. She glanced down at her faded jeans and wondered what it would be like to afford nice clothes. She’d been scrimping for so long now that she’d forgotten what it felt like not to worry about money.

“Stop it. You look beautiful as always. So Emma’s off to junior prom, eh? Good God that is horrifying. How old is she now?”

“Sixteen. She’s driving now, can you believe it? My little girl behind the wheel?”

“No. I can’t believe it. I refuse to believe it, actually.”

“Seems like just yesterday she was selling Girl Scout Cookies, and at this time next year she’ll be getting ready to go off to college.” Daphne glanced at a framed photo of her smiling, metal-mouthed daughter on the desk, back when she wore braces instead of lip gloss. Back before Daphne and Brian split up and Daphne found herself a single mom working part-time at a flower store.