Letters from an Imaginary Friend

Nobody believed me when I said my childhood imaginary friend was real until I found the

letters. I was eight when Sarah first appeared in my backyard. She had curly red

hair and always wore this blue dress with tiny flowers. We'd spend hours talking by the old

oak tree, playing games only we understood. My parents thought it was cute,

typical kid stuff. But Sarah felt so real to me. When we moved houses that summer,

I was heartbroken leaving Sarah behind. I cried for weeks, begging my parents to go back for her.

They kept saying she wasn't real, that I'd make new friends. Twenty years later,

I'm cleaning out my grandmother's attic after she passed. Buried in a dusty