Peggy thought it would be a normal Saturday night—there was no work to be done, all her cases were closed, and she had submitted herself to believing and expecting herself to have a very boring, quiet night. But then, Angie called her.
“English, I’m so bored I’m gonna die,” she’d huffed into the phone, and Peggy smiled with fondness. Angie, ever the drama queen, always thought she would die from something minor.
“Why don’t you come over? I haven’t had a proper slumber party since primary school,” Peggy offered, and she swore she heard Angie jump out of her skin through the phone line.
“I’ll be over in twenty minutes!”
And for once, she was on time. Peggy had a spread ready for the pair—some soda, the popcorn like at the theaters, and some of their favorite candy. Angie nearly hit the ceiling when she arrived.
“You sure know how to treat a gal, Peg,” she teased, and Peggy just rolled her eyes affectionately.
About an hour later, the two were wrist deep in a carton of chocolate ice cream, hair pinned in pin curls, giggling about how Angie fancied the new businessman that stopped in at the diner. She shifted closer to Peggy underneath the quilt they shared, and smiled, her tone now less laughing and more sincere.
“I’m really glad I got to become friends with you,” Angie said honestly as Peggy ate a large spoonful of ice cream. “You’re a one of a kind friend.”
Peggy smiled fondly at Angie, but the words to describe her happiness with her friend failed her in that moment.
“Let me paint your toenails,” she said, and Angie lit up even more.
“I want you to paint them that red color yours are!” Angie said excitedly, thrusting the quilt off and running into the bathroom, returning seconds later with the deep red bottle that Peggy always donned on her fingernails.
Ten minutes later, Peggy had finished blowing Angie’s now blood-red nails dry as the other squealed with joy.
“You know,” Peggy said, capping the bottle off and smiling, “I’m pretty happy to have met you, too.”