With a wave to my friends from the end of the hall, I signaled for them that I have to go. Pressing my books onto my breasts, I jogged down the stairs... as though holding my heart in anticipation. I reached the last step just in time to see him walking towards me from the main entrance, a boyish smile plastered on his face. I could feel my heart still pounding, ready to burst out of my ribcage. His hair was slightly damp, a little rumpled but he was adorable nonetheless. He wore that gray Polo. My husband died when I was 36. I had a son. He grew old and I married him off. All was going well but he died in a car accident leaving his wife and two kids. I was a widow so I understood and her pain and advised her to remarry but she didn’t want to and want to raise her kids on her own.Her parents used to support her too, financially.She took a job at her children’s school as a teacher and began teaching there. I was happy for her. They used to go to school together. Once it happened that my. More

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