“Come -on ! choose ! Big or small?” Her fingers wagged under my nose second time in as many hours that day.

” Honestly, Mufs ! Can’t you stop now that we are in our IXth?”

“I would always need you to decide Rams,” she said simply.

Succumbing to her pressure as I always do, I touched one of her fingers with my eyes closed leaving her happy.. well, for an hour more.  In December she stopped asking.   A much older man took over her senses and I quite foolishly tried to make her see one -to my own peril.

I entered the classroom that was ours till circumstances made me change the school.  The hurt was still palpable.  The air  thick with what was till it wasn’t ..raw.. deep and strong some thirty years thence.

She walked in and spoke as if we were taking off from where we left off, ” I come here every alumni meet hoping you would be here.  Did my action hurt you so much that you left me?”

“The mutilated chicken accompanied with a threatening note on our doorstep did!”

“I am sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “I was too much in love that I didn’t see his dark side. I wish I had asked you to choose as I usually do and not share with him that you disapproved.”

A pause, “Is he here?”

“He is dead” she said baldly the relief tangible.  “In an accident.”

“I am so….,” I began automatically until I saw her warning eyes.

We looked around the all-too familiar room.  Everything was the way it was including the old furniture and in unison we stopped by only to trace the underside of the terribly scarred desk-  Rams+ Mufs= BFF( to infinity)

We smiled our maturity giving us hope.