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Same age, same school, lived one mile apart. I saw her often, but we never spoke. I was in “love” with The Little Red-Haired Girl with the dark brown eyes. Every time I rode from my house to my grandparents’ house past her house, I looked to see if she was there, in the front yard with siblings or working with her parents.
The final day of school, standing with a friend, there she was walking toward us, she smiled and said hi, not to me, to my friend. “You know her?” Of course, for years. As she just walked away. AAUGH!
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