They say you can judge a man by the friends he chooses to have. Often I have thought of what it meant. And often enough, I never could find an answer. Growing up alone, I never had many a friend so close to really be called a friend.

Growing up in an orphanage, I was often bullied, mistreated. Being the youngest I was often 'prey'. This orphanage I grew up in, no one here ever cares. The patrons don't care. None of the orphans were cared for. They were savage in my eyes. I too, was like any one of them.

One day, however, I met someone new. A little girl, less little than me, nor older it seems.

"Everyone!" the patron called for our attention. Each of us stood hampered close. Though, none stood closer than an arm's length from where the patron stood.

"This is Emily." That was how the girl was first introduced. We each gave our names. I caught a glimpse of her face, which hung low most of the time. Only raising it a little, she gave a stifled "hello". She manages to smile once, a sad smile it was. That instant, I felt sorry for her, in spite of myself.

'Perhaps,' I had thought, 'perhaps I can be her friend.' And so we were. It happened when I was five. I remembered her being my friend. I even remembered how I loved our friendship. She was the only one there, the only friend I had.

I've heard, of a saying that goes, "Friends are to be cherished."

This I believe is very true. For a friend I made, and cherish I will.