I remember fondly the summer I met her. Our eyes locked. Soon after, our fingers did the same, as we blushed and giggled when we looked at each other after our first time. I said it was she my first and lied. I suspected she did the same. By the end of summer, I was convinced we were in love, love meant forever, love meant to last the test of time. By the middle of autumn, I had trouble remembering her name.