We were well enough the first time she admitted casually that she would watch me die if someone else would take the shot.
We got to second base (or shortstop) way before we started counting and recorded our accomplishments on napkins, but forgot to wash our hands before we ate, before we fought, before we cried.
Her name was "who cares," mine was "I might," her approach to mathematics was a parrot in a snowstorm: plain to see, but out of place and hard as hell to understand for those who cared enough to try.