“Kisses, to be sweet, must be stolen.”
~ Jerome K. Jerome (Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow)
There were fewer chances to spend together when our commitments changed. We lived further apart, and each of us became busy with our respective courses. I don’t know how exactly, but while feelings for him gradually grew in my heart, the actual moments of being together gradually declined.
Neither of us seemed to make the effort to meet.
He left for his hometown. I heard news of him from my sister, as she had kept in touch with him. He didn’t keep in touch with me.
Then it came my turn to return to my family home.
About a couple of years after the walk and the dance, he contacted me.
It was my birthday (if I remember correctly). He asked if I could meet him briefly, as he had something to give me. I agreed.
I walked to the bus stop in front of our apartment building, where we agreed to meet. His brother drove and he got out of the car when they arrived. His brother kept the engine running… so it was really to be a brief encounter.
He gave me what he wanted to give me.
“Happy Birthday”, he said, and then he kissed me on my cheek. My first kiss.