By Roy Dorman
It’s so unfair. I love you so much. You were the first boy I kissed and now they’re making me move away from you. Please promise to meet me at the second bridge on June 10th, ten years from now. We’ll both be 25 and we can see how we turned out.
Bill read the note for the umpteenth time since Jake had given it to him. He had agreed to meet this girl, actually a woman since she would be twenty-five now, and he was as nervous as bridegroom. Not that he’d ever been a bridegroom.
“What if she doesn’t show?” he thought. “What if she gets mad at me that Jake sent me and didn’t come himself? What if she’s really cool and we hit it off and..….., no, don’t start that fantasy stuff; remember, you’re just the messenger here. Jake’s a friend but he sure ropes me into some weird stuff sometimes.”
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