Her Name was Amy

Her name was Amy. She was my best friend. My earliest memory. I remember the half finished building. The games we played on the street.
I remember everything about her. She was a year older. Not wiser.
Every time I had to leave, she would grow sad. Every time I came to visit, she would be happy. These were genuine emotions, not to be confused with anything else.

Then I left. I was gone, just like that.
A friendship which seemed to last centuries had only just begun.
5 years later. I returned. I was older. Not wiser.
I never thought I’d see her again. Didn’t expect it.

I saw her again. She remembered. Everything. She asked if I remembered.
If I knew her name
I said no.I lied. I don’t know why I lied. The glimmer in her eyes disappeared. Her spirit crushed.
Why did I do that?
She told me we were her friends. She told me we were inseparable. I saw her eyes. I saw the pain. I said nothing, and she was gone, just like that.
I wish I could apologize. Say I’m sorry. Just once. Would it matter?
I’m sorry, Amy.

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