I still remember you.
No, I don’t remember your name.
No, I don’t remember how you looked.
Sometimes, I look at that old school photograph and try to recognize you. “This guy’s him. No, maybe that’s him.” I don’t remember much; only a few things here and there.
I remember how we sat besides each other everyday.
I remember how we laughed.
I remember how I had got angry when an uninvited girl came and sat between us on our classroom bench; just like that. How dare she!
I remember how you had hit that little boy, who sat behind us, when he held my hand while playing.
And that school picnic. We had gone to the zoo and while entering we had been instructed to make a pair, form a queue, and then enter.
I remember how jealous I had got when you were made to hold the hand of that other girl. It was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be us.
How could the teachers miss to observe the bond we shared? How could they do that to us?
However, the separation; probably, this one’s the last memory I have of us and our UKG classes.
You must have become a handsome dude, today.
Yes, dear childhood bestie, I haven’t forgotten you.
Yes, I still remember you.
Do you remember me, too?
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