Gene

We walk a hallway of pictures. My old high school friend points to one I may find interesting. There she is. Her beautiful smile, her pretty hair. My first true love. Love to the marrow. I can not move, my feet are anchored. I am awash with emotions. Love, warmth, laughter, holding hands, a hug. Honest love. What if I had not run away? I was scared. Now I am lonely like a soul standing on a station platform. No one around. My train has left. I stop the tears on the outside, but inside it is different.