A new boy came to our kindergarten group. One day, we were looking at flowers outside and started talking. Soon after, we somehow new that we belonged together. We were five or six. Knowing he was there made me happier than anything.
His parents lived in a temporary flat nearby and prepared to move soon. He started creating troubles at home, wanting to stay and marry me. Our parents met and were trying to convince us to be reasonable, promising that we would keep in touch and meet again.
Nothing like that happened. They left and we lost contact. He was not on hour group photo.
Many years later, I was walking on the main street of the same city during a break between lessons, and some guy started running towards me, shouting my name. He came close and with a warm open smile told me that I did not change.
Something horrible happened to me: I did recognize him, but I barely said a word. I was with a friend and acted avoidant and overly casual, expressing no significance of our meeting. I left in a hurry. When I realized what I did, he was long gone. I felt enormous pain remembering his last questioning look.
