“Grandma, tell me a story!” I said as we huddled near the campfire “Alright,” She said “Once, there was a tree named Timmy, he was my best tree friend. I used to read books under him and climb all his branches.” “Where is Timmy now?” I asked Grandma pointed to the campfire.
Snail
I comforted my friend about his wife’s death: until I found out who did it.