I love highschool reunions. Always have, always will.

I spent weeks having a tux tailored, and I was even on the point of getting a wig to cover my bald patch. Of course, I bought a limo, for this occasion.

I sighed with content, for the hall was better than I remembered it. Though it may sound silly, those sashes really brightened my night.

I talked to all my old classmates, and we laughed about the good old days.

“Jack,” Dick whispered to me, “You remember Agnes, don’t you?” I blushed; she had been the love of my life all through highschool – not that she knew.

“Well,” he continued, “it turned out she was widowed 3 years ago. No children.”

Confident and excited, I sauntered to where she stool. I gasped; she was drenched in punch. I appreciated the drink’s work, for her figure was accented, and magnificent. Her eyes glittered with passion, and my heart pumped faster.

I called out her name, but she must not have heard me. Oh well, I’ll wait for the next time we meet.

I love reunions.