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[Tags: breast expansion] Artwork by @ohshinakai Go to part 1: Despite the fact that there was an entire world beyond the confines of her bedroom that she had yet to see, there was nothing that Milana talked about more often, or more enthusiastically, than the mall. It never made much sense to me—as I often reminded her, it was really not a particularly impressive example of a shopping mall. But in Milana’s mind, it was a place that held a great deal of significance. It was a different Universe—a world full of things to see and to buy, but most of all I think, it was one of the only places she really remembered spending any decent amount of her time in the years before she became bedridden. The mall was the place I was often sent when Milana needed something, like to pick up all of the video games and board games we would play, as well as our collection of painted war figurines, which they sold at a table-top gaming store on the top floor. No matter how many times I would tell

[Tags: breast expansion] Artwork by @ohshinakai For about as long as I’d known her, Milana Mei had been sick. She was just a sickly girl, that was who she was. To most people, acquaintances and such, there was really nothing else of relevance to note about Milana. All anyone in the neighbourhood knew was that, yes, Milana Mei? She’s that girl with all of the medical problems, right? And that’s how she remained: the sick girl. Well, not to me. Milana may have just been the sick girl to everyone else, but to me, she was my best friend. We had known each other for about as long as it was possible for two kids to know each other, almost as long as we had known our own parents. Both born in the year 2000, we had grown up next-door neighbours in a leafy yet under-developed suburb of Toronto, both only children of middle-income families—though hers being somewhat on the poorer end than mine, it should be said. I was the son to two fairly unassuming Jewish parents, whereas she was the