EIGHTY-EIGHT

Peter gently tucked the bookmark at page 46, the page of the poem he’d re-discovered after 40 years. He climbed out of the taxi, and could already hear the music in the school gymnasium. 40 years since he’d last seen Margaret.

He felt he looked the same, plus a few pounds, and hoped it would please her. When he saw how much she’d remained the same, he took a deep breath, wet his lips, and walked over to her.

Then he met her husband, and threw the book in the trash.

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