R32

I can't tell you much more about Barbara. It's not that I don't remember her. Moreover, I do record well her thick hazel locks, worried face with high set cheekbones, her chocolate colored eyes. I remember her plaid skirt, white socks and autumn 'kickers' shoes as well as red cardigan, which she tried to keep closed with her arms crossed. We talked on my way from the music school to my elementary school. I was surprised to see her. She spoke to me as if I should know her. She was speaking fast and asked many questions, though she knew all the answers, revealing them before I would manage to speak them. That was really a strange encounter, as if Barbara was a visitor from the future or another dimension. Maybe in her memory I was an interrupted line, but for me she was just a speck from the past.

What if I waited for her after solfeggio to carry her bag? Would I ask her something? I believe that walking next to her I wouldn't be so stammering and shy as I was around other girls. I would notice that she smelled of elderberry. I would loved to observe her fingers as she would take white hankie from her purse. She would wipe her palms and crumpled cloth would simply disappear as if it knows that it doesn't belong with the lady. Would we walk along each other from elementary school to high school and beyond? Would she be seated by my side while I don't understand any of the Roman Law lesson, inhaling her fragrance of peach marmalade and roasted almonds? Would she charmingly sigh, worried for me? How far would she go? Would she endure all my idiocies? Or would she part with me, with heavy heart? Or would I, too, disappear on my own like crumpled handkerchief?