Suppose I meet you again and you are beautiful. What then?

Will I blurt it out, hoping that maybe the years will simply wash away, and we will be like kids again? Or will I just look. Nod, smile, share stories. Politely kiss you goodnight?

They say you should never meet up with old sweethearts – not at our age.

Sentimentality can make you do stupid things; not to mention the middle age staples of loneliness, nostalgia, and dwindling opportunity.

But I can tell from your voice that you, like me, have a barely disguised hope. You must know it’s absurd. I certainly do.

Yet here I am. And here you are – sauntering in from the past. Is this what they call going backwards or…?