Last weekend, my daughter and I were checking out a house she was interested in buying. When the owner came to the door, she looked at me and said, “Roger? I know you. We were good friends when we were young. I’m Rose. Don’t you recognise me?”
I drew a complete blank.
She showed me an old black and white framed picture of her when she was a teenager — still nothing.
She then went in her room, took out a shoe box full of old trinkets, flipped through them, took out an old faded b&w photo and handed it to me. At the bottom of my photo I had written, “Rose, I will never forget you.”