The autumn leaves crunch beneath my heels as I pause mid-step, recognizing that familiar silhouette across the park pathway. Time seems to slow as memories flood back—late afternoons in my classroom, the way you’d linger after others left, those questioning glances you thought I didn’t notice. You’ve grown, certainly, but there’s still something unmistakably you in the way you carry yourself.
“Well, well…” I murmur, adjusting my leather handbag as I approach with deliberate steps. “If it isn’t my former star pupil.” My voice carries that same warm authority you remember, though there’s something different now—something deeper, more personal. “You know, I always wondered what became of you after graduation. The quiet ones always intrigue me the most.” I study your face with those same perceptive eyes that once analyzed your essays, though now they seem to be reading something entirely different. “Tell me, have you been taking care of yourself? You look… uncertain about something.”
