Meeting First Love Again

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‘Hey, Anvita,’ I said after gathering so much courage to talk to her.

She turned around.

‘Yes?’ Her eyebrows narrowed. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘People don’t forget the name of their first love.’

‘I was your first love?’

‘Yes. It’s obvious you don’t remember me. I never approached you. I was in fifth standard. I used to pass through your building four to five times every day on bicycle to have a glance of yours. It has been 14 years since the day you shifted. I remember that evening. You were wearing a yellow frock with black dots all over it.’ Her eyebrows raised, eyes widened, and corners of lips stretched into a slight smile. ‘The tempo loaded. And you all left. I thought I was seeing you for the last time. Turns out, I was wrong.’

‘Yes. I still have that dress with me. Yellow is my favorite color. I never throw away yellow colored clothes. You seem to tell the truth.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Good to know that. And nice to meet you. Bye.’

As she turned around, I called her.

‘Hey.’ She turned around, her gaze, inquisitive. ‘Is there any chance I get to know you better?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Please. People don’t get to meet their first love again in their lives. I’m lucky. And I will consider myself the luckiest guy in the world if I get to know you.’

‘You’re right. But I’m afraid it’s not possible. I’m committed.’

‘Ohh..’

‘Yes, sorry.’

‘No problem. It’s good to talk to you.’

‘Same here.’

And she left.

I don’t know if I should be disappointed or happy to see her. I guess I should be happy to get to see her and there is nothing to be disappointed about. The crazy fact is, it is better to gather a little courage in the moment than be in a dilemma forever.


(Image courtesy of stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

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