I had seen him only three times in my life. We had met by accident in rather a romantic way, and for the last two weeks in August I and he, too, perhaps, lived in a magic world, a world of wonderful promises and a glowing future.
Then my world crashed—he left for college.
Our meeting was so vague, our knowledge of each other was so limited, and, as mutual friends we were non-existent. So, it was not surprising that I heard nothing from him. But I could not forget his perfect manners, his friendly smile, and the charming things he had said. No other man could interest me. I often told myself how silly I was to dream of him, who probably considered it just a light flirtation. However, no amount of common sense would cure me of my love. For it was love. I couldn’t help seeing that.
Exactly four years and two months later I saw him one day on the street. The business district was crowded with people, but in spite of them all, I saw him. I seemed to feel him coming. My first subconscious thought was: “Will he remember me?”
With many people around us; with four years separating our friendship; and with all the great and small things that happen to shadow memory, he recognized me. He reached out his hand, and said, oh, so gently: “It is you, isn’t it?”
Need I say that it was the happiest moment of my life?
And is it necessary to add that we were recently married and intend to love happily ever after?
—Mrs. J. S.
