She looked down at her phone and blinked in bewilderment, stunned that the address her college friend had given her had directed her to a suburb. Hesitantly, she switched on her left blinker and turned into what appeared to be the setting of the film Pleasantville, yet, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she felt less than pleasant about being there. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at her black purse, sitting in the passenger seat of the car, and she tried to remember how many Xanax pills she had left in her prescription bottle.

Carefully, she drove through the suburb, noting that each house she passed was larger than the next. Some were brick, with two car garages, while others were white, complete with columns on the front porch. Of course, she knew that the lives lived in these homes were filled with just as much disarray as everyone else’s, and suddenly, her curiosity peaked, and she felt far less uncomfortable. She knew that behind the perfectly manicured lawns and the expensive curtains, carefully drawn to conceal the lives of those lived, behind them, were human beings, each with their own individual challenges and struggles. As she turned into the driveway of her friend’s home and heard her phone announce “You have arrived,” she looked at the large house in front of her and wondered what war her college friend was quietly battling, behind the closed doors of her home in Pleasantville, USA.

In the front lawn of the home her phone had directed her to, her college friend was standing, talking to what appeared to be her next door neighbor. Her college friend was still beautiful, of course, with her long, almost black hair pulled into an interesting side ponytail. She was wearing a black, lightweight windbreaker that was unzipped, revealing a black sports bra underneath, and her flat stomach, along with a pair of black leggings, and black running shoes. Of course, her figure was still svelte and as perfectly proportioned as it had been in college. That wasn’t unexpected though. She didn’t have children, and she always made physical exercise, along with her physical appearance, a priority. What was more surprising was the fact that she seemed so comfortable with her neighbor, a woman sporting short, platinum blonde hair, neon pink fingernails, and wearing what appeared to be a pink and green Lilly Pulitzer patterned dress.

Feeling slightly awkward and still uncertain as to why her college friend had contacted her, after almost a decade of them not having a relationship, she stepped out of her car and onto the plush, perfectly manicured lawn, as her friend began walking toward her. Unsure of how to start their conversation, after so many years had lapsed in their friendship, she decided to break the ice with the dry sense of humor they had always shared.

“You’re friends with a woman that wears Lilly Pulitzer dresses?” She asked her college friend.

“I am friendly with a woman that wears Lilly Pulitzer dresses. We are not friends.” Her college friend replied, giving her a cheeky grin, just as relieved that their friendship had fallen back into place so easily. “Besides, her Lilly Pulitzer dresses are one of the least annoying things about her,” she added.

“What could be more annoying than her wardrobe?” She asked her college friend, half sarcastically, half seriously.

“For starters, she’s blonde, and her name is Cammie,” she replied. “Of course, there’s also the fact that she only ever wears a pink shade of nail polish, which she somehow works into conversation with almost anyone she meets, as if committing to a certain OPI palette renders her a superior human being.”

“If I recall correctly,” she replied, “You were an adamant fan of OPI Linkin Park After Dark, and I’m quite certain you’ve shared that personal preference with multiple people.”

“Whose side are you on?” Her college friend asked, in a jovial tone.

“Yours, obviously. I spent the last ten hours in my vehicle, driving here, to visit you.” She replied, nudging her annoyingly svelte friend in the side.

“Now,” she asked her friend, “Are you going to tell me why you asked me to come here?”

“We should have that conversation, inside, in private,” her college friend replied, and the two of them walked across the manicured lawn, mowed in diagonally lines.