At around 11 am one Tuesday morning
You remembered it as you were pouring tea into the cups. Or was it when you were hanging out the washing? You recalled the face you passed-by that morning. It seemed so familiar. Isn't she the one you went to school with? The same straight black hair. The oddly slanted eyes. Slightly bowed legs. And a congentinal inability to say the word 'yellow'. You bet if you had stopped her on the streets, pointed to your umbrella and asked her what colour it was, she would have said 'lay-o'. It had to be her, you were convinced. Until you realised that it had been 32 years since you left school. And your classmate would have aged in that time. Her hair would've turned grey and her eyes would've grown lines around them. Just like yours have. Ah, it's memory, you said to yourself. Never letting people from the past grow old.