The summer before my junior year a woman I had never met died, and I wept. Abby, my friend, has the kind of personality and demeanor that makes you want to protect her from all the ugly in the world. She and I met my freshman year but I cannot tell you when we actually became friends. It could have been in art class where I only knew one person. Or maybe in English class when we sat next to each other and schemed about recreating that paint balloon scene in “The Princess Diaries”. No, I really