A short prose, translated…
“Tomorrow’s the reunion, and I’m afraid of running into my ex-girlfriend, back then, we broke up in a very awful way.”
“Don’t worry, time had eased everything.”
“No, I’m pretty sure, that she would want me to get washed away.”
So, this, is the “fear” that comes, when you get that invitation back to your schooling days, isn’t it? But hey, perhaps, you’re thinking too much, after all, how long’s it been again? Ten, twenty, twenty-FIVE years? And, who’ll remember if so-and-so was dating so-and-so back then, and they had a NASTY break-up? Only the gossipers, and, why the HELL would you care about what the gossipers say?