On my way home to get ready for work today I was stopped at a light wait for a break in traffic to turn left and a bicyclist went by. I knew her, or am fairly sure I did. I hadn't seen her since she was seventeen or eighteen, and I was probably fourteen or perhaps even younger than that. But she had the same face, round and seemingly made for smiling with lips to match. And I thought of that time, the time that I knew her. The friends I made then were not close, but they were good none the less. We lived and laughed together, briefly, and said we would see each other again. Many I did see again, and some I never did. But I remember how shining and happy those summer days were, as we went mad with stress and invented private jokes. I was possessed with an urge to follow her, find out if it really was her, but a car following her would frighten her and I was already turning. So I went home, comparing her face to the face I remember and becoming convinced that no random person could bare such a resemblance. So, hi Emma. It's been awhile, hope you're well.
M
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